Women's Work
by Cke1st
Summary: Sometimes, when the man of the house has no clue how to solve a problem, the woman has to buckle down and solve it herself. Of course, she may have to hide the results from him, especially if he's the king of Arendelle, and the problem is your 12-year-old daughter with uncontrollable cold powers. But some outcomes can't be hidden. Rated K-plus to be safe; the language is all K.
1. Chapter 1

**Women's Work** Chapter 1

 _A/N  
Sometimes, when the man of the house has no clue how to solve a problem, the woman has to buckle down and solve it herself. Of course, she may have to hide the results from him, especially if he's the king of Arendelle, and the problem is your 12-year-old daughter with uncontrollable cold powers. But some outcomes can't be hidden. Rated K-plus to be safe; the language is all K._

 _This is not a sequel or prequel to my other Frozen fanfics, although they share a few fictional points in common (like the names of the nobles). My descriptions of women's roles are meant to be appropriate for the time and place of this story, and are not necessarily my opinion of how these things ought to be handled today._

 _It was just a coincidence, but a happy one, that I began posting this story the day after Mother's Day._

 **o**

Queen Idun looked around at the flowers and shrubs around her, drew in a deep breath, and tried not to scream.

Their encounter with Elsa this morning was the worst they'd ever endured, with every indication that things would keep getting worse. She and her husband had rushed to her room in response to her fearful cry, as they'd done in the past, and found their daughter cowering in the corner. Ice had spread across the floor and risen up the walls. "I'm scared!" she'd cried, her eyes wide with fear. "It's getting stronger!" Her husband had tried to console her, and she had _shrunk away from her father_. "No! Don't touch me! Please, I don't want to hurt you!" she'd exclaimed.

This was all so _wrong!_ What daughter should have to live in fear of hurting her parents? What parents should be unable to help their daughter with a problem, no matter how extreme it might be? She remembered her own childhood, and how her mother and father always knew the answers when things went wrong. She felt so helpless!

Perhaps worst of all was the discussion she'd had with her husband afterwards. "Everything we're doing is failing!" she'd exclaimed.

"What else can we do?" he sighed, looking as helpless as she felt. "If the people ever found out about her powers, they'd banish her! Or worse! She's _got_ to learn how to control them!"

"But she _isn't_ learning!" Idun had exclaimed. "The gloves haven't helped. Imprisoning her in her room hasn't helped. She's suffering, Agdar! We need to try something different!"

"What do you want me to do, Idun? Lock her hands in metal manacles? I think we've still got a pair down in the dungeons somewhere." At her shocked expression, he'd shaken his head. "No, I'm not serious. Besides, I don't think even those would help. She's a force of nature, Idun, and we can't lock her down. Somehow, she has to learn to control herself, or…" He left his sentence unfinished. She'd remembered the light-picture they'd seen when they visited the Grand Pabbie of the trolls that awful night, the picture of people rising up against their daughter in fear.

"We have to try something different," she'd insisted.

He'd sighed and shaken his head again. "How can we help her when we don't even understand what's happening to her?" Then Kai had reluctantly interrupted them; a messenger from the Kingdom of Oslo was at the gates, and whatever he wanted, it probably required the king's attention. The discussion had been left unfinished, but it might as well be over. She had no new ideas, and she knew he had none. She had retreated to the Queen's Garden, just to get away for a few minutes.

The Queen's Garden wasn't really a garden, but a greenhouse, built against an outer wall of the palace, where plants grew all year. By unspoken agreement, no one was allowed there except the Queen, the royal gardener (which meant Gerda these days), and those whom the Queen invited. If Idun was there, then Gerda stayed away, not by command, but by understanding – this was Queen Idun's refuge from the stresses of royalty, reigning, and trying to help a daughter who seemingly could not be helped. She chose which plants grew there, and spent almost as much time caring for them as Gerda did. The smell of freshly turned earth, and the fragrances of the flowers and herbs, helped her relax and forget her troubles for a few minutes. Those troubles were always waiting at the door, ready to descend on her shoulders and press down on her again, but no one could live with that kind of pressure forever. Everyone needed an escape, even a brief one.

Except poor little Elsa, who never got to escape from the horror her life had become.

Idun realized she was gripping the handle of the watering can so tightly, she was on the verge of hurting her hand. She set it down quickly and massaged her fingers. She plucked a leaf of lemon balm, pressed it between her fingers, and enjoyed the scent it released. If she had to squeeze something, she preferred lemon balm and similar herbs. They smelled nice when she squeezed them.

She looked around. She'd had some windows cut into the palace wall so people could see into the greenhouse from inside the palace. Anna frequently climbed into the window wells so she could see what her mother was doing in there. The concept of ladylike behavior was slowly sinking into her mind, but it was taking its time and she had frequent relapses. Her standard excuse was, "I just want to see!" Idun had brought her into the greenhouse many times, so it wouldn't be so mysterious to her younger daughter, but the forbidden fruit of a stolen view kept calling Anna's name. She wasn't there today, though.

Idun knew that, if she looked up through the clear roof, she would probably see Elsa watching her from her bedroom window. She also knew that, the moment Elsa saw her mother looking at her, she'd turn away from the window and hide, afraid that she might hurt her mother somehow. Her fist tightened again, crushing the lemon-balm leaf into a formless green mass. It was so unfair! The poor child had done nothing to deserve a fate like this! What was Elsa supposed to do when she got older – rule the kingdom from behind a locked door, unseen and unknown? Would the bishop willingly move the coronation ceremony from the royal chapel to a girl's bedroom? How could she ever take a husband and produce an heir?

 _It won't work,_ she thought bitterly. _Nothing works_. She picked up her watering can and searched her little domain for plants that looked parched. With some, the soil was visibly dry; with others, she had to touch the dirt and feel how moist it was. She wasn't like some queens who felt faint if they got their hands dirty. She'd learned gardening from her mother, who never made her servants do all the dirty work, and the smell and feel of dirt was something she always associated with pleasant thoughts and happy memories. She scooped up a handful of very moist soil from a pot of Norwegian kusymres. The soil was too wet for primroses, she noted; until it dried out, they would never thrive.

Would her daughter ever be able to thrive?

The Queen's fist tightened again. Soft mud oozed out between her fingers, making a complete mess of her hand. She stared at it, irritated. Then she stared at it some more, breathless, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

Could it really be that simple?

Well, was there some kind of rule that said it had to be complicated?

Maybe, just maybe, the solution to her most vexing problem lay right there in her hand.

 **o**

Agdar was flatly against it.

"Idun, where have you been for the past four years? It's when she uses her cold power that bad things happen! She needs to control it, not turn it loose!"

"But she _can't_ control it!" Idun burst out. "Can't you see? It's too much for a child to handle! She needs to –"

The King took her hands in hers. He looked sad. "Idun, my love, I have never done this before. I never thought I'd ever do this. But I have to be perfectly clear. As your husband, and as your king, I am forbidding you to turn our daughter's power loose while she's in this castle. Do you understand?"

Her face turned hard. "Yes. Perfectly. So what's _your_ solution?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe there's a clue in that old book that has the trolls' map in it." He went to find that book in the library, leaving his wife fuming.

Idun was not the strongest-willed woman who ever lived; she had never been the rebellious type. But her husband's stubborn insistence on staying with a failing plan got under her skin. This wasn't some random citizen of their kingdom whose life was being frozen out of her – this was their _daughter!_ The idea of doing nothing, or doing something that would result in nothing, had become intolerable to her. But she had never disobeyed her husband, and she certainly could not ignore a command from Arendelle's king.

"I am forbidding you to turn our daughter's power loose _while she's in this castle_." Hmmm…

She couldn't try anything that morning; she was committed to help judge the town's annual snowman-making contest. Normally, she loved viewing what the local children had made, but today, she couldn't wait for the contest to be over. When it finally ended, she rode back to the palace for lunch, hoping that her growing excitement wasn't going to be too obvious. Fortunately, her husband was distracted by a minor diplomatic problem with Weselton that had come up, and he didn't scrutinize his wife too closely from across the table.

She climbed the grand staircase, trying to keep herself calm. What if it didn't work? What if it backfired somehow – how would she explain it to her husband? Overriding every concern and worry was one overarching thought: _I have to try this for Elsa's sake_. She tapped on her daughter's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's your mother."

After a moment, Elsa called, "Come in." She wasn't expecting company at this time of day. Idun found her lying on the bed, reading a book about Viking history. The queen stopped about eight feet from the bed; any closer, and Elsa's fear would kick in.

"How are you today, dear?" she asked.

"I'm... all right, I guess," Elsa replied nervously.

"Would you mind if I sat on the bed for a few minutes? I'd like to –"

"No!" her daughter exclaimed, rolling off the bed, keeping it between her and her mother. "Please don't get too close to me!"

"All right! All right!" Idun replied, backing away a step. This wasn't starting well. "Elsa, everything we've tried hasn't helped you very much, has it?" After a moment, Elsa shook her head. Idun went on, "I didn't think so. How about if we try something completely different?"

"I don't think anything can help," Elsa said sadly, looking at the floor.

The queen's heart nearly broke at those words, but she forced herself to go on. "Elsa, my daughter, you're much too young to give up all hope. I know _I_ haven't given up! Will you try something different with me, please?"

"What do you want to do?" Elsa mumbled.

"I'd like you to join me in my garden. Just for a few minutes; I won't make you stay long if you aren't comfortable there."

Elsa looked puzzled. "What good is that going to do?"

"There's something I want to show you," Idun replied, "and my garden is the only place I can show it to you."

Her daughter tensed up slightly. "What if I hurt someone when I meet them in the halls?"

"We'll take the back stairs, so we won't bump into your father or your sister," Idun answered. "Kai is dusting in the library, and Gerda is out doing the shopping. You won't meet anyone, and I promise I won't try to get too close to you, unless you say it's okay. Please, Elsa? It would mean a lot to me."

Elsa didn't answer. From her side of the bed, Idun couldn't see her daughter's feet, but she heard the crunching sound that meant the floor was freezing over. A few more such freezing episodes, and they would have to replace the bedroom floor again. That was the least of Idun's worries, though. She waited for Elsa to answer. Her husband would have prodded their daughter into making a decision, but that never seemed to work well.

At last, Elsa said, "I'll try it," in a very quiet voice.

"I'm glad," Idun answered.

Mother preceded daughter, not due to royal rank, but due to the daughter's reluctance to get close to the mother. Idun opened the door to the greenhouse, and left it open as she stepped inside. After a few seconds, Elsa followed her in and shut the door behind her. She left a few frost crystals on the door handle.

"What do you want to show me?" she asked. There were shreds of curiosity in her voice, mingled with the ever-present fear.

"First, I need you to come closer so you can see this."

Elsa backed up against the door, whose glass panes instantly frosted over. "No... I can't! I can't get that close to you! I don't want to hurt you!"

"Elsa, listen to me! Do you think I want either of us to get hurt?" Elsa shook her head mutely. "Then try this. Put your hands behind your back. That way, if your cold comes out of your hands, it won't go toward me. I'll be safe that way. Right?"

"But... but Father says a proper young lady shouldn't stand with her hands behind her back."

Idun tried to keep her voice gentle. "This isn't a posture and etiquette lesson, Elsa. This is a lot more important than that. Please do as I ask, and then step over toward this flower pot."

Very nervously, Elsa folded her hands behind her back. She took three steps toward the flower pot, then backed away one step, then took two more steps forward and stopped. Idun guessed that she wasn't going to get any closer, but she was close enough now.

The Queen of Arendelle stuck her hand into the flower pot and came up with a handful of the overly wet soil. "Elsa, what would you call this?"

"Mud," Elsa said with obvious distaste.

"You're right, of course," Idun nodded. "Now, watch what happens when I close my hand a little." She closed her fingers on her handful of mud and squeezed it slightly. Some of the mud leaked out from between her fingers.

"You make a mess," Elsa said.

"And if I squeeze harder?" She clamped down on the mud, which oozed out all over her fist.

"You make a bigger mess," Elsa commented.

"The tighter I squeeze, the more it leaks out," Idun agreed. "If I just held it lightly, would it leak out?"

"No," her daughter said, "but I don't understand what this means. Why did you want me to see this so badly?"

Idun raised her gaze from her muddy fist to her daughter. "Because I think this mud holds the answer to how you can control your power."


	2. Chapter 2

**Women's Work** Chapter 2

"You think a handful of _mud_ is going to help me control my power?" Elsa was torn between being angry at her mother and laughing at her.

"Think for a moment, my daughter," Idun urged her. "When I just left it lying in my hand, it stayed there. But when I tried to hold it tightly, it leaked out all over my hand. The tighter I gripped it, the more it leaked. Doesn't that sound like the problem you're having?"

Elsa looked at her mother's muddy hand again. "Are you saying... that my power is like that mud? The more I try to hold it in, the more it leaks out?"

"Exactly!" Idun exclaimed. "When you were a small child, you played with your power the way you played with dolls. You never had ice springing up all around you, except when you wanted it to, or when you got very afraid. It's only since you started trying to hold it in, and never use it, that it's gotten out of control."

"But what happened to 'conceal, don't feel, don't let it show'?" Elsa was obviously puzzled by this sudden change in her mother's approach.

"For one thing, that never worked," Idun replied. "For another thing, everyone has feelings, and no one can hold them in all the time. Our feelings are part of what makes us human."

"I'm not human," Elsa said quietly, staring at the floor. "I'm a freak. A monster."

"What? Who told you that?" Idun demanded.

"It's in the book of fairy tales I used to read," Elsa replied. "I've read about people like me lots of times. People who hurt their own sisters, people who aren't safe to be around."

"I might need to burn that book," Idun muttered. "Elsa, you are _not_ a monster! You're a wonderful girl with a special talent that you haven't learned to handle yet, that's all!" She moved to hug her daughter, but Elsa shrank away.

"All right. Are you willing to test my theory? Are you willing to find out if the way to control your power is to use it?"

"What do you want me to do?" she asked nervously.

"I want you to open that door, step out into the garden, point your hands at the sky, and let your power go. You won't hurt anyone or anything that way, so it's completely safe. If I'm right, you're going to feel a lot better, and you won't have any cold control problems for... well, none of us knows for how long, but hopefully, it will last a while."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then you'll be no worse off than when you started," the queen replied. Elsa reached for the door handle, hesitated, then pulled her hand back. "What are you waiting for?" Idun wondered.

"I'm afraid," Elsa answered reluctantly. "I'm afraid of being disappointed again by another plan that won't work."

"It sounds all right, but the chances are slight it'll work – that's unforeseen.  
"I'm just an abomination, not a girl who could be queen!  
"My fears are calling – all the things that we have tried  
"Never kept it in. I just sat and cried.

" 'Don't let it win,' you said to me. 'If you could, girl, you might set yourself free!'  
" 'Conceal, don't feel' is all I know, from years ago!"

Idun got as close to her daughter as she dared, and tried to answer her fears.

"Let it go! Let it go! If holding back feels like war,  
"Let it go! Let it go! It's a talent you'll explore.  
"Yes, I care more than I can say.  
"Let the storm move on. Your fears, they will just have to fall away."

Elsa wasn't convinced.

"I'm scared of your assistance, though you mean well and all.  
"Though I'm glad that you don't scold me, I'm scared that I will fall!  
"In time, we'll see if I can do  
"The things that you have asked me to.  
"I'm not that strong – oh, can't you see?  
"Not me!"

Idun refused to give up.

"Let it go! Let it go! Just aim your cold at the sky.  
"Let it go! Let it go! Relax and let it fly!  
"I'd not planned on this today;  
"Let a new day dawn..."

Slowly, hesitantly, Elsa opened the door and stepped out into the garden. Idun followed, keeping her distance – she didn't want to ruin this moment by being too eager. Outside, the Norwegian winter made her glad that she'd worn her cape and hood. Elsa just wore her normal clothing, but the cold didn't seem to bother her. The girl looked upward toward the overcast sky.

"I've got my worries, and I care if I'll be crowned.  
"If cold goes spiraling, who knows what bad things might be found?  
"Is this a mystery, a test that I might pass?  
"Don't want a cold attack. Can I be free at last?"

Idun racked her brain for the words that might make a difference in her daughter's struggle.

"Let it go! Let it go! You've fought it your whole life long.  
"Let it go! Let it go, a different kind of 'strong.'  
"Here we stand! Elsa, don't delay.  
"Let your fears be gone!  
"Today could be your independence day."

Elsa looked at her hands, then at her mother with a heartbreakingly sad expression. "You seem so sure... but what if it doesn't help?"

"Please try," Idun urged her. "It can't make things worse, right? All it can do is help."

Elsa gazed at her hands again. With two quick gestures, she pulled off her gloves and dropped them on the ground. She stretched her hands toward the sky... and hesitated.

"I don't know how to do this," she sniffed.

"How does it feel when the floor freezes under your feet?" Idun asked her. "Think about making that happen upwards instead of downwards."

Elsa glanced at her feet, then at the clouds. She shook her head, gazed at her mother for a second, then flung her hands skyward again. An inarticulate cry, almost a scream, burst out of her lips. At the same moment, a visible shaft of blue-white air rocketed off her hands and lanced toward the sky with a sound like a thunderclap. Snowflakes materialized all around it and tumbled down around them. She'd done it! But what had she done?

Elsa's knees went wobbly; her hands were shaking and she was nearly hyperventilating. She couldn't take her eyes off her hands.

"How do you feel?" Idun asked anxiously. Elsa started to answer, then turned and launched another cold bolt into the sky, then another and another. The amount of snow from each successive bolt grew less and less; the thunder sounds grew quieter. At last, she stopped, breathing heavily, looking exhausted.

"Elsa, how do you feel?" her mother asked again.

Elsa didn't answer for a moment. Idun couldn't read her expression, but she was sure there was no fear there. That was something new. She went down on one knee and held her arms out toward her daughter.

Elsa's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, _mother!_ " she sobbed. Then she ran into her mother's arms and clung to her desperately. Idun returned the embrace, stroking her daughter's hair, as her own eyes filled. It was the first time in years that Elsa had been willing to touch her.

"It was like holding in a sneeze," she said at last, speaking into her mother's shoulder, "except it was too strong, and I wasn't supposed to let it out, but I couldn't hold it in, either. It kept coming out anyway, no matter what I did. Now I feel so tired... but I don't feel like it's controlling me. I feel..."

"Safe?" Idun suggested. Elsa just nodded. At last, she let go, but rested her hands on her mother's shoulders.

"Am I going to have to do this every day?" she asked.

"Maybe," Idun said slowly, "but maybe not. We don't know much about what you can do. Maybe using it a little bit, here and there, all day long, will work just as well as one explosive outburst a day. Are you willing to try that?"

"That wouldn't disturb the neighbors as much," Elsa nodded with something close to a smile. "I'll try that." Then she truly smiled. "Just wait until Father hears about this! He'll be so happy!"

"Elsa... we can't tell your father yet," Idun said hesitantly. "He still thinks 'conceal, don't feel' is the best way for you to go."

"But it doesn't work!" Elsa exclaimed. "You said so yourself. It never worked."

"I know," her mother said sadly, "but if he finds out what we're doing, it will cause problems. This is going to have to be our little secret for a while."

"I never kept secrets from Father before," Elsa said doubtfully. "It sounds wrong."

"It won't be for long," Idun assured her. "Once we know how your power works, and the best ways to keep it under control, we can tell him. Then he'll be happy. Like us."

Elsa nodded after a moment. She bent down, picked up her gloves, and resolutely put them back on. Then her face brightened again. "Can we tell Anna?"

Idun thought fast, then shook her head. "Your sister has the bad habit of saying exactly what's on her mind, and then trying to take it back. Her keeping a secret is like... like you holding your power back. It keeps leaking out. But once we know you can control your power, you can spend time with her again. We just won't tell her _how_ you're controlling it."

Elsa nodded. "I'm looking forward to that. I've missed my sister so much..."

"But remember," her mother continued, "you can't use your power in front of her! She's the only one in the palace who doesn't know about it. She really doesn't remember. The trolls said it was best to do things that way."

"O-o-okay," Elsa said doubtfully. "But... if Father was wrong about 'conceal, don't feel,' then what if the trolls were wrong about Anna not knowing about me?"

Idun paused. "I'll have to think about that. For now, our rule will have to be 'Conceal, don't feel, but with me, be real.' "

"Conceal, don't feel, but with you, be real," Elsa repeated, and let herself smile, just a little. "I think, maybe, I can do that." Mother and daughter walked back indoors together.

 **o**

 _A/N  
Some of you may be amused to learn that this is the fourth time I've rewritten the words to "Let It Go" – once in "Frozen Together," once in "Thawing Together," once as a Christian version to sing in church, and now this one, not counting a few individual verses and choruses in various stories. They're all different, too._


	3. Chapter 3

**Women's Work** Chapter 3

The next day, Elsa didn't resist when her mother suggested that they go for a walk in the gardens. Without prompting, she removed her gloves and launched a barrage of slender cold-bolts into the Norwegian sky. They brought down flurries of snow, but the thunderclap noises from yesterday were almost completely absent. Queen Idun commented on that.

"If we're trying to hide this from Father, then making more noise than an army in battle wouldn't be a good way to do it," Elsa said matter-of-factly. "I thought it over, and I figured that a bunch of small cold-bursts might make less noise than a couple of big ones, and it would still work just as well."

" _Did_ it work just as well?" Idun asked.

"I think so," Elsa replied after a moment. "I feel better now, but it's still hard to hold it in all day. Can we do this two or three times a day, instead of just once?"

" _I'll_ have to think _that_ over," her mother answered. "The more often we do it, the greater our chances of getting caught at it. For now, it's cold out here. Now that you've let it go, would you like to join me in the Queen's Garden for a while?"

Elsa nodded eagerly. She knew next to nothing about gardening or plants, but the chance to do something different was its own reward. She followed her mother into the greenhouse and closed the door behind them. Her eyes lit up at the sight of so many green plants in the middle of winter.

"Mother, these are beautiful! I had no idea you grew so many flowers! I've only seen them from a distance." She bent down to sniff a yellow one, then gently touched it. The flower was suddenly glazed with a coating of ice; it drooped and leaned over to one side. She drew her hand back in shock. "Oh, no!"

"It's all right!" Idun exclaimed. She rested her hand on Elsa's shoulder; she flinched and pulled away, mostly out of habit.

"How did that happen?" Elsa whispered in dismay. "I thought, if I used up my power for the day, this wouldn't happen anymore!"

"You've just begun to learn about your power and how it works, dear. When you were learning to walk, you fell down a lot; when you were learning to talk, you pronounced your words wrong; and it will be the same thing with learning to control the special things you do. I don't expect you to get it perfect right away. It's okay."

"Was that a valuable flower?" Elsa asked quietly.

"It wasn't worth a lot of money, if that's what you mean," Idun replied. "It's something your father got for me the last time he went to the Southern Isles. It was kind of special to me, but he can get me another one, the next time he's down there."

Elsa gazed sadly at the flower for a moment. "I'm sorry. I really am." Then she held her hands apart, palms facing each other. A cloud of white snowflakes appeared between her hands; they spun and drew together, growing more solid with each passing moment. In about five seconds, she was done. She had made a perfect replica of the flower out of blue-white ice.

"I know this isn't as good as a real one," she sniffed, "but..."

Idun took the flower, holding it carefully by the stem. The icy leaves were as thin as real leaves, and were delicately veined. Every petal was perfectly reproduced; even the tiny stamens were there, made out of fragile ice. She was afraid to breathe on it, for fear that her breath would melt some of the details. It was an amazing feat.

"Elsa, that's not true," she said as she wiped away a tear. "This is _better_ than a real one, because you made it for me. Thank you." She embraced her daughter with her other arm and held her for a few seconds.

"You really aren't mad?" Elsa asked, wide-eyed.

"Not even a little," her mother reassured her. "I'm amazed at how you did this, and I'm proud of you."

"You... you are?" It was Elsa's turn to wipe away a tear.

Idun felt like hitting herself. How long had it been since she'd given her daughter the simple reassurances that every child needs? Had she been so blinded by the snow-and-ice problems that she'd forgotten that Elsa was a little girl who needed to hear the right things now and then? Maybe it wasn't too late. She got down on her knees and faced her daughter squarely.

"Yes, Elsa, I _am_ proud of you. Not only that, but I love you, too."

"Oh, Mother!" They shared another long embrace, and cried together for a bit.

"Now, let's put your flower outside in the garden, where it's nice and cold," Idun suggested. "It will melt if we leave it in here."

"No, it won't."

"It won't?"

"No," Elsa said firmly. "If you like it that much, I won't let it melt."

"I do like it that much, Elsa, but... how can you do that?"

"I just do it," her daughter said with a shrug.

"All right." Idun carefully planted the ice-flower in the same flower pot as the one Elsa had inadvertently wilted. "This just became my prize flower, my very favorite. Best of all, I don't have to water it!" They both smiled at that.

"I love spending this time with you, Mother. Can you show me the rest of your flowers? I promise I won't touch them!" She put her gloves back on, just to show how serious she was. Idun walked her around the greenhouse, showing off the fruits of her labor. She waxed rhapsodic about every plant, until she noticed Elsa showing signs of boredom. After that, she just supplied a quick description of the plants, and went into detail only about the ones Elsa seemed curious about.

 _Elsa isn't the only one who has a lot to learn,_ she thought to herself. _I have to work on my motherhood skills, to learn how to raise this precious child that I've almost ignored for four long years_.

They spent nearly an hour in the greenhouse before Idun decided they needed to get back into the palace. "If your father goes looking for you in your room and doesn't find you, I can't even guess what he'll think. We have to keep up the fiction until we can prove to him that you've learned to control yourself."

Elsa nodded firmly, accepting the role of youthful co-conspirator. "Do you think he'll be happy when he finds out?"

"If he can find out in a good way, he'll be overjoyed," her mother nodded. "But if he finds out because something went wrong, he probably won't let us keep trying. As long as it's winter, we can try things in the gardens, and unless you make too many thunderclaps, he'll never know. Once the weather warms up, he often takes walks in the gardens, and we'll lose our hiding place."

"So we've got until spring to get my power under control?" Elsa asked.

"We've got until spring to do all the experimenting we can," Idun corrected her gently. "It might take a lot longer than one season, or even one year, to really control a power like yours. Oh, don't look disappointed, dear. I just don't want you to feel like something's wrong if it takes longer than we expect."

"But it's already been so long!" the girl lamented.

"Yes, it's been too long, and your father and I owe you an apology for that. We tried to do the best we could for you, but no one knew anything about your power! We had to guess, and we guessed wrong. We've all suffered because of that, you most of all. Now we're starting from the beginning, you and I, and it's going to be a strange journey for us, because the student knows more than the teacher does."

"You... you mean _me?_ " Elsa had trouble grasping that. "I know more than you?"

"You know more about your power than me, or your father, or anyone else on earth. _I_ certainly don't know how to make a perfect flower out of ice, just by waving my hands! Only you can do that. My role will be to guide you, and help you think of different things to try. And to warn you if I see something that's about to go wrong."

"I don't want anything to go wrong," Elsa said with a touch of sadness. "I've seen enough of that already."

"So have I," Idun nodded, with a hand on Elsa's shoulder. "Let's work on things that go right."


	4. Chapter 4

**Women's Work** Chapter 4

Idun dropped by her eldest daughter's room shortly after breakfast. To her surprise, Elsa shrank away from her. "No! Don't come closer! I haven't let it go today!"

"Elsa, what's wrong? I know you aren't going to hurt me!"

"No, please stay back! Let me go out to the garden to let it go, and then you can get closer."

Idun backed off a step and tried to think. She'd thought that her daughter had had a breakthrough in the past two days. Had she been wrong? Elsa was still stressing out over her power as much as ever; she'd just found a new way to be afraid of herself. This wasn't working any better than the way things used to be.

"Elsa... let me think..." She'd just had the beginnings of an idea. It would be in flagrant disobedience to her husband's order, never mind a command from the king. But her need to do something for her daughter overruled everything else now. "Can you let it go in here? In your room?" Something was tickling at the edges of her mind, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"No!" Elsa gasped. "I'd freeze the ceiling! Father would find out for sure!" She was probably right about that. Would the walls be any better? Probably not. The floor? No, she'd been freezing the floor for years; that would be no improvement at all. She looked all over the room for something that would be a safe target for Elsa's power. The fireplace, the furniture, the vase of flowers, the wall paintings...

 _The flowers_. That was it.

"Elsa, I'd like you to try something. Instead of letting it go in wild, uncontrolled blasts, try letting it go a little bit at a time, doing something constructive. I'd like you to make me some ice flowers, just like the flowers in that vase. I promise I won't get too close to you until you say it's all right."

Elsa nodded doubtfully as she stepped over to the vase. The flowers were tulips, Arendelle's national flower, and they were well past their prime. She took off her gloves and picked one up, and dropped it in shock when it became covered in frost. After a few seconds, she gathered her courage, held out her hands, and created a tulip just like the ones in the vase. She slipped it into the vase and made another. Within a few minutes, the vase contained more icy flowers than real ones.

"Those are beautiful, Elsa! I love watching you make those flowers. Now, tell me – how do you feel? Did that help you let it go?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes... yes, it did help! It's not as good as letting it all go at once, but it's better than it was." She glanced at the flowers again. "I think I like this way better. I can't hurt anybody or break anything, and I made something pretty. Maybe I just need to do it more."

Idun desperately wanted to check out her daughter's handiwork, but she didn't want to get too close before Elsa said it was okay. She forced herself to stay where she was, and looked around the room again. "How about that painting on the wall? Can you make another one just like it, out of ice?"

That got Elsa's undivided attention. She stared at the painting, a formal portrait of her parents, for several seconds. Then she pointed her hands at a blank section of the wall. Snowflakes and ice crystals appeared out of nowhere, swirled together, and slowly formed a rectangular shape. In a few more seconds, the portrait was done. Icy versions of Idun's face, and the face of King Agdar, gazed serenely out of a blue-white picture frame, but they were raised and textured instead of being flat like a real painting. Elsa considered her handiwork for a moment.

"I never liked your expression in that painting," she decided. "I want to see you smile." She gestured with one hand, some more snowflakes flew, and the solemn expression of the Queen was replaced with an un-regal but warm and open smile. Idun forced herself not to let her jaw drop.

"Do you like it, Mother?"

"I... I'm stunned! It's amazingly good! Yes, I like it. How are you feeling now?"

Elsa glanced at her hands. "I feel the same way I did after I let it go in the gardens."

"Is it safe for me to get close to you now?" Elsa answered that by running into her mother's arms and hugging her tightly.

"Mother, between the two of us, maybe we can beat this thing!"

"I'm sure we can, Elsa, but I've got another question. Is there a reason you didn't make your father's portrait smile?"

Elsa broke off the hug and turned away, looking genuinely sad. "I don't know how to make _him_ smile."

Idun fled the room. She didn't want her daughter to see her crying. She retreated to her greenhouse and just sat there, her head in her hands, thoughts and feelings spinning out of control. How had she and Agdar failed their daughter so badly? Was it possible to undo the harm they'd done? Was it too late? Even if she succeeded in helping Elsa gain mastery over her amazing power, would Agdar ever accept it?

The greenhouse door swung open and Gerda began to step inside. "Oh, Your Highness, I'm sorry! I didn't know you were here! I'll come back later."

"Gerda, wait." Idun needed a bit of help that her servant was best qualified to give. "I need a bucket, an empty bucket that won't leak. Can you find something like that for me?"

"Yes, Your Highness, of course." Gerda was obviously puzzled by such an unusual request from the queen. "I can find a bucket in about ten minutes, if you wish."

"I do wish," Idun replied. "Meet me at the foot of the back staircase in about ten minutes. After that, I'll be done in here for the rest of the morning."

"Yes, Your Highness." Gerda speed-walked back into the palace, leaving the queen to her thoughts.

She felt like she was taking on this extraordinary project alone. A co-conspirator would help, even if it was just someone to talk to. But who? Her usual co-conspirator was her husband, but he obviously wouldn't do – she was deliberately going behind his back, for the first time since she'd married him. Her sister-in-law would be perfect for the job, but she lived in Corona, over a hundred miles away across the sea. Kai and Gerda would be sympathetic, but dragging the servants into the royal family's personal problems would be inappropriate at best. Nine-year-old Anna, of course, was far too young to serve as her mother's confidante, even though she'd be the most willing of all. She sighed; she would have to bear this burden alone, until she could prove to her husband that her way was working. At that point, he would surely get on board (she hoped).

She met Gerda at the back stairs and took the bucket she'd requested. A few seconds later, she was knocking on Elsa's door again. "I've got something for you," she called through the door. Elsa opened the door eagerly… and stopped, puzzled.

"A bucket?"

"It's to put your frozen artwork in, dear," Idun explained as she stepped inside. "You're going to run out of room if you make flowers and pictures two or three times a day, so when you make new ones, you can drop the old ones in the bucket and melt them."

"I can do the first part," Elsa said hesitantly, "but I don't know how to melt things."

"You don't?" That surprised Idun for some reason.

"Making things cold is easy. Making things warm again… I don't think I can't do that. Thank you for the bucket, though, Mother. The ice will melt on its own if I let it." She dropped her icy flowers in the bucket, then made some new ones to take their places. The framed picture was too big to fit in the bucket, so she reluctantly broke it in half and dropped it in. "What happens when the bucket is full of water?" she asked.

"Gerda will take it away once a day, when she brings your breakfast tray." Idun sat down in one of the room's high-backed chairs. "Now that you're feeling okay, what would you like to do today?"

Elsa was _not_ expecting that question.

"I… I don't know," she stammered. "I've been stuck in here so long, with nothing to do except read the books Gerda brings, and keep up with my studies… If I was a normal twelve-year-old girl, what would I do?"

Again, Idun fought the tears back. How much of this poor child's childhood had they stolen from her? "Well, you'd play with your sister… you might go horseback riding on a nice day, or practice on a ladylike musical instrument if the weather was bad, or maybe paint or do needlepoint… you'd do more of that reading and studying… a future queen like you would get lessons in royalty from your parents…"

"That last part doesn't sound very interesting," Elsa decided. "It sounds like something I can't get away from."

"You're right. You can't," Idun replied. "It's not very interesting – trust me, I know – but it isn't hard, either. It's mostly common sense, and a few rules to guide you. Rule Number One is, 'No matter what you do, always be ladylike.' Arendelle doesn't want you to act like a king. They've already got one of those. You'll be the queen, so always act like a queen."

Elsa nodded, then looked puzzled. "But, Mother, I'm going to be the Queen Regnant, right? The kingdom won't have a king, it will have a… a… what do they call it?"

"A Prince-Consort," Idun answered. "That will be your husband's title, and you're right, he won't be a king. But you still –"

"My _husband?_ " Elsa looked stunned. "But… who'd want to marry a girl like _me?_ "

"You won't have to worry about that for a few years, dear," Idun said kindly. "You're a beautiful girl, Arendelle is a wonderful kingdom, and any prince would count himself lucky to be your Prince-Consort."

"Until he finds out what I can do," Elsa said bitterly. "Then he'd be afraid of me and lock me in my room."

"Your father and I will choose a boy who won't be afraid of you," Idun replied firmly. "He'll be a kind boy who will never lock _anybody_ in her room! Don't you be afraid of anything like that ever happening."

"But what about when the rest of the kingdom finds out about me?" her daughter asked plaintively. "Won't they think I'm a witch?"

Idun thought carefully before answering that. It was important to her to be honest, but not brutally so. "Some of them might," she said. "I'll have to talk to your father about this, but I think it will be best if we prepare the kingdom and let them know about you before you become the queen. They'll know that you're our daughter, and they'll know that we didn't teach you anything bad. If you just make beautiful things with your power, it will be hard for them to think bad things about you. They'll learn to love you as their special queen."

"That means it's even more important that I learn to control it," Elsa said thoughtfully.

"Elsa, if a man is unusually strong, he has to learn to control that strength, and use it constructively," Idun replied. "If he has a bad temper and lashes out with that strength, he'll hurt people, and they'll never respect him or love him. If he's the king, they'll obey him out of fear, but not out of reverence. It's going to be the same with you."

"But… what if an accident happens?" Idun saw something dark and tragic in her daughter's eyes, and she had no doubt at all what Elsa was thinking. She sat down on her daughter's bed and kept her voice soft.

"Sometimes, accidents do happen. You know that more than anyone else. Elsa, please, tell me everything that happened that morning."


	5. Chapter 5

**Women's Work** Chapter 5

"Elsa, please, tell me everything that happened that morning."

Elsa's eyes went wide. She shifted away from her mother, and a light dusting of snowflakes began falling from nowhere. "I told you, it was an accident!" she blurted out.

"Yes, you did," Idun nodded, "and I believe you. But that accident is still haunting you. I can tell because you're afraid it will happen again. Please talk to me about it, dear! You'll feel better."

"Mother… I'm scared! I'm scared to even _think_ about it again!"

"Elsa, a secret can have power over you only as long as it stays a secret. As soon as the truth comes out, it can't hold you prisoner any longer. And I've got a feeling you think about it all the time, whether you want to or not. Please, tell me everything."

Her daughter was holding back tears. "Are you going to be mad at me?"

"If it was really an accident, then no. If it wasn't, but you tell me the truth… not much. But I think the strain of hiding the truth is punishing you much worse than I ever could. Talk to me, Elsa. Please."

Elsa took a deep breath and, for the first time, she told her mother _everything_ that had happened that awful morning, from Anna waking her up to the moment when her parents had burst into the ice-covered ballroom.

"So it all happened because you slipped on the ice?" Idun asked. Elsa nodded miserably. "Then it really was an accident."

Elsa nodded again, unwilling to face her mother. "It was an accident that almost killed my sister."

"Elsa, did you ever notice that your Aunt Primrose has a tiny scar high on her left temple?"

She looked startled at the change of subject. "Yes, I think so. She wears her hair so it doesn't show, but if she's outside and the wind blows, you can see it. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Did you ever wonder where she got that scar?"

"Not really."

"Elsa, she got it from your father."

"From _him?_ But, Mother, he's the gentlest man in the world!"

Idun looked out the window. "Your grandmother was teaching him and Primrose how to take care of a vegetable garden. They were both children, and neither of them was very interested in gardening. Your aunt was following a butterfly that was flying by, he didn't know she was right behind him, he turned around while he was holding a rake, and… bang! Down she went. At first, he thought he'd killed her. Then he thought he'd made her ugly forever; he was afraid the scar would never heal. She knew it was an accident, and so did his mother, but he felt terrible about it, long after your aunt had gotten all better. He learned an important lesson about being careful with tools, and he never made that mistake again.

"Elsa, sometimes these things just happen between siblings, no matter how much they love each other. You aren't a bad person and you didn't do a bad thing. You just slipped on the ice at a very bad moment."

Elsa sniffled. "Does that mean… you forgive me?"

"Yes," Idun replied firmly. "I forgive you. So does your father."

Wordlessly, Elsa threw her arms around her mother and sniffled into her shoulder. Idun comforted her, marveling at the power of simple forgiveness. The Grand Pabbie of the trolls had warned them that fear would be Elsa's enemy, but apparently, she had been just as crippled by guilt.

"Does Anna forgive me?" Elsa said through her tears.

"Anna doesn't even remember it," Idun replied. "The trolls took that memory away from her. If you ask her about it, she'll have no idea what you're talking about. But if she did remember it, I know she'd forgive you. She's missed you very badly ever since..."

Elsa dried her eyes. "Maybe it's good that she doesn't remember it. If she did, maybe she'd think it was because of her that I got stuck in my room."

"Elsa, I'm hoping that, once you get your power under control, the first thing you'll do is get back together with your sister. It will be good for both of you, and it will also prove to your father that things have really changed." Then she heard the clock striking downstairs in the library, and their encounter for the day had to end on that note. Idun was expected to chair a meeting of the Ladies' Auxiliary Committee for the Lutheran Church that morning, followed by lunch, and after that, she needed a bit of time to herself in the greenhouse.

She was pulling some tiny weeds out of her flower pots when she heard a faint tapping at the door. "Yes?" she called, expecting to see Gerda. But it wasn't Gerda. It was nine-year-old Anna.

"Aren't you supposed to be learning your multiplication tables?" her mother asked.

"I've been doing those all day, Mama," Anna replied. "I need to do something else, or my head will turn into a multiplication table, and I won't be able to talk anymore; I'll just say numbers." Where did that child get her imagination? It wasn't from her father's side of the family, and she didn't think of herself as being that imaginative... maybe it was from one of her grandparents.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

"I just want to see something green," Anna answered. "Winter is half over, and the snow is fun, but your plants are so pretty... can I come in for a minute? No, I did that wrong." She curtsied. "Your Highness, may I please enter the Queen's Garden?"

Idun couldn't help smiling at Anna's attempt to be ladylike. "You may." Anna burst in, barely remembering to close the door behind her. And then, like all children who are presented with multiple things to look at, she immediately zeroed in on the one thing her mother wished she _didn't_ notice.

"Oh, Mother, you've got a glass flower! That's new. It's almost as pretty as a real one." Anna knew better than to touch a delicate piece of glass like that, but she looked at it more closely and realized the truth. "It's not glass! It's ice! Why doesn't it melt?"

"I don't know," Idun replied, and that was the honest truth. "If you look over here, I've got some –"

"Where did you get it, Mother? I've never seen anything so beautiful!"

"It _is_ pretty, isn't it? Why don't you check out my new –"

"Mother, where did you get this?" Anna's curiosity was aroused. There would be no putting her off now. Idun sighed.

"Elsa made it for me."

"Elsa?" Anna's mouth fell open. Her mind whirled with possibilities... and then she turned and ran out of the greenhouse like a shot from a cannon, completely forgetting to close the door behind her. Idun shut it. She considered chasing Anna to see what she was up to, but realized she could never match her younger daughter's energy level. Anna might easily be halfway to Kristiansand by now, and still accelerating. Then she knew exactly where Anna was going, and headed that way herself.

Anna's destination wasn't nearly as remote as Kristiansand. She flew up the back staircase, two steps at a time, raced down the hall, and skidded to a halt outside her sister's door. She hadn't tried knocking in months – it was so discouraging when Elsa never answered – but the ice flower in the greenhouse was a sign that something might have changed.

Knock knock na-knock knock. "Elsa? Can you make an ice flower for me?"

There was no answer.

"I know you made one for Mother. Could you make one for me, too? Ple-e-ease?"

No answer. Anna decided it was time to break out the big guns.

"Do you want to build a snowman? Or make a flower out of ice?  
"I haven't seen you in so very long! Did I do something wrong? An answer would be nice.  
"I've finished all my schoolwork. I've got some time.  
"I've missed you – where you have been?  
"Do you want to build a snowman? I would love to say 'hello.' Can… I come in?"

There was no answer.

Anna saw her mother reach the top of the back staircase, ran to her, and tearfully asked, for the 97th time, "Mother, why won't Elsa talk to me anymore?"

Idun knelt and hugged her daughter while she tried to make a decision. It just wasn't fair to keep Anna in the dark about this. Was she old enough to handle the truth? She'd always been precocious; she could certainly grasp what Idun had to tell her. She could also blurt the truth all over the kingdom if she had the chance. Would she even be able to remember the things Idun might tell her, when the trolls' power was at work on her memory? She saw the tears streaming down her little girl's face, and made her decision. If she was going to defy every instruction she'd ever been given about Elsa, then she might as well do a thorough job of it.

"Anna, come with me, please." Idun led her down the hall to the royal suite. The children were never allowed there without permission. Idun opened the door and stepped inside; Anna scampered in behind her.

"Anna, do you remember your royal manners?"

"Oh! I did it wrong again!" She backed out into the hall and curtsied. "Your Highness, may I please enter your chambers?"

"You may." Idun still had to smile. She led Anna to a family portrait on the wall, painted when Elsa was five and Anna was two. It was the only image of Elsa in the entire palace. They looked at it together for a few seconds; then Idun sat on the bed and patted the space next to her, inviting Anna to sit there. The bed was quite tall, and the nine-year-old had to climb up. She gazed up at her mother, waiting.

"How much do you remember about Elsa?"

"Well, we used to play together all the time. And then we stopped, and she stayed in her room all the time, and she wouldn't talk to me, and nobody would tell me why. Are you going to tell me why?"

"Anna, what I'm going to tell you is… it's kind of a family secret. You can't talk about it to people when they come to the palace. This is important. Can you be a big girl and not talk about it?"

"Oh, yes, Mother, I will! I mean, I won't! I mean, I will won't talk about it." Idun was sure Anna meant every word of it, but what would happen when they had visitors who commented on Elsa's absence? Would Anna blurt out the truth without thinking? There was no way to know. Idun decided to trust her daughter, now that she was getting a little older, and see what would happen.

"There's something else you have to know, Anna. I'm trying some new things to help get Elsa out of her room, and your father doesn't know about them. Can I trust you not to talk to him about this?"

"We're keeping a secret from Father?" Anna suddenly looked very serious. "I never did that before."

Idun had finally thought of a good reply to that. "It's not a secret, Anna. It's a surprise. We'll tell him when the time is right. Can you keep it from him until I tell you it's okay?"

"I'll try," she said soberly. "But... what are you going to tell me?"

"When you were five, you had a very serious accident." Idun paused and watched Anna's brow furrow. "You don't remember it, and that's good. We had to take you to the trolls so they could –"

" _Trolls?!_ " Anna interrupted, excited beyond words. "You've seen the trolls? How big are they? What do they look like? Are they nice? What kind of clothes do they wear? Do they really tinkle in the woods? How many –"

"Anna! That was _not_ ladylike!"

"Oh." Anna covered her mouth in shock. "I'm sorry, Mother."

"What I'm trying to tell you is important. Please listen. The reason you don't remember the accident is because the trolls took away your memory. They changed some other memories in your head as well."

"And you _let_ them do that to me?" Anna was aghast.

"They knew what they were doing, or we thought they did. I'm starting to wonder about that. The thing they took out of your memory is all the special things that Elsa used to do. Those are the things that caused your accident, and those are the things that Elsa has been trying to hide from you ever since, so she won't hurt you again."

"But, Mother…" Anna was clearly confused. "Elsa would never hurt me! We always had fun together!"

"She didn't mean to hurt you, but sometimes people have accidents," Idun replied. "Think about that flower made of ice in my greenhouse. How do you think Elsa made that?"

Anna thought hard. "I guess she started with a block of ice, and she chipped away at it with some kind of tools, until it looked like a flower. She must have practiced a lot while she was in her room, to get that good at it."

Idun shook her head. "I watched her do it. All she did was hold her hands apart and make a wish, and that flower appeared in her hand."

"I thought making wishes never worked in real life, Mother."

"Somehow, it works for her, as long as it's about cold things. She can make snow and ice, just by wanting to. I don't know how she does it, but she does."

Anna tried to make sense of this. "So, if she was in a snowball fight, she could wish for a snowball, and it would be there, right in her hand?"

"Yes, I think she could," her mother answered. Anna considered what it would be like, to have a snowball suddenly appear in her hand…

…and that specific thought triggered a memory. She suddenly remembered a ball of shining ice, floating just above Elsa's hand. She heard her own voice as a five-year-old, exclaiming, "Do the magic! Do the magic!" She remembered the ice ball shooting up toward the ceiling and bursting like fireworks. Other memories burst into her mind like those fireworks – snowmen, ice skating, sleds, indoor snow games…

"I'm remembering things," she whispered, amazed, as she tried to process the stream of memories that were suddenly flooding her mind. "Things about snow... things about Elsa..."

Idun stared at her. She'd never seen that expression on Anna's face before; she looked completely lost in wonder. _She remembers it all,_ she thought. _The trolls didn't take away her memories, they just_ _hid_ _them away. Somehow, I triggered something, the floodgates of her mind just opened, and now she remembers everything. There's no point in trying to keep secrets from her now_.

After a few seconds, Anna gazed up at her mother. "Can Elsa still do all those things?"

"I think so."

"Why did she stop?"

"Anna, she stopped because she was afraid of hurting someone, especially you. She didn't want to ever let that accident happen again. That's why she's been hiding in her room ever since."

"What accident? I still don't remember any accident."

"You don't remember her hitting you in the head with cold, and making you cold all over?"

"No," Anna said hesitantly. "The last thing I remember about Elsa was playing tickle-bumps with her… and then I don't remember anything. Are you sure?"

Idun sighed with relief inwardly. It might make things easier if she really didn't remember that event, but she had to believe that it had truly happened. "That's how you got the white streak in your hair. Elsa gave you that, by accident."

Anna pulled one of her braids forward and glanced at the streak of white hair, braided in with the rest of her hair. On the rare occasions when visiting royalty brought children to the palace, those children always commented on her white streak, and she'd never known what to tell them. "It's always been this way" was all she could say. Now she knew – it was a gift from her older sister. No, not a gift; it was the aftereffect of an accident that she couldn't recall having.

"But why won't she even talk to me?" she asked plaintively.

"Anna, what you have to understand is that the accident hurt Elsa almost as much as it hurt you, because she loves you so much. She's afraid she might hurt you again, without meaning to. She won't even come to the door to talk to you because she thinks she might do something bad with her cold powers through the door."

"But I've been so lonesome without her!" Anna was frustrated. "Why don't you tell her to come out and play with me? She has to listen to you, right?"

"I won't do that because I don't want to force her to do something she's afraid of," Idun replied. "When you were little and scared of the dark, did I make you sleep in a dark room? Or did I arrange for Gerda to light a little lantern in your room for you? I wasn't cruel to you, and I won't be cruel to Elsa. She'll come out of her room when she's ready."

"When, Mother? When?"

"When she's ready. You can help her be ready, by not scaring her."

"How did I scare her?"

"You didn't, Anna, but you might. If you walked down the hall and saw that her door was open, what would you do?"

"I'd run in and I'd hug her! Then I'd tell her I missed her, and ask if she was okay, and tell her everything that's going on in the palace, and –"

"That's what I'm talking about, Anna. She hasn't been around anyone except your father and me for years. If you ran into her room like a tornado and hugged her, that would scare her. The first time you see her, you have to be ladylike."

Anna rolled her eyes and blew out the corner of her mouth. "Why do I have to be ladylike with my own sister? She's not a lady."

"Actually, she _is_ a young lady, and even if she wasn't, it will be best if you act that way. She'll get used to you again, and you can run and play together, but not the first time you meet."

"But that's going to take too long!" Anna exclaimed.

"I don't know how long it's going to take, and neither do you," Idun admonished her. "All we can do is wait, and be ready to be nice when she comes out. And there's one other thing you can do, Anna." The girl's eyes lit up in anticipation. "You can go back to working on your multiplication tables. Go on – off you go!" Anna groaned as she left the royal bedroom.

She slouched down the hall, in no hurry to return to the library that doubled as the royal schoolroom. She passed Elsa's door and fought the urge to knock on it again. But she suddenly noticed something on the floor just outside the door.

It was a tulip made of ice.

She picked it up as carefully as she could, called "Thank you, Elsa" through the keyhole, and tiptoed down the hall to her own room. There, she put the flower in her flower pot, next to the normal flowers. The ice flower looked better, she decided. It wasn't as colorful, but it was more amazing.

She still had to work on her multiplication tables. But now, for the first time all day, for the first time in _years,_ she had something to smile about.


	6. Chapter 6

**Women's Work** Chapter 6

The next day, as King Agdar and Queen Idun rose from their breakfast, they noticed Kai and Gerda huddled near the kitchen door, talking quietly. "Is there a problem?" Agdar asked them.

"No, Your Highness," Kai responded. "At least, not a problem that requires royal intervention. We'll take care of it."

"Very good," said the King, and retired to the library for some quick reading. He liked to compose himself before facing the day's work. Idun, on the other hand, was curious. The day-to-day running of the palace was more her department than his anyway.

"What kind of problem is it, Kai?" she asked.

"Nothing major, Your Highness," the servant answered. "The ice man missed his delivery for two days in a row. We got a message that his horse is lame and he doesn't know when he'll be back in business. He's supposed to send a substitute when that happens – that fragrant young man with the reindeer was the last one he sent – but it looks like he forgot this time."

"How serious is that?" Idun wondered.

"Not very serious yet, Your Highness. As long as we get some ice for the cold-storage area in the next day or two, we should be fine. After that, we'll have to move all our frozen food outdoors and hope the temperature stays cold, or we'll lose it all."

"That part sounds like a lot of work, Kai."

"It would be, Your Highness, but that's what you're paying us to do. You need not worry about it."

"Thank you, Kai. Please keep me informed." She strolled away from the kitchen area, trying to hide her grin.

When she got to Elsa's room, she found an astonishing variety of ice flowers in the vase. Elsa was scrutinizing a book about flowers, which Idun recognized as one of her favorite reference books from the palace library. Then she set the book down, held out her hands, and created a spectacular chrysanthemum out of white ice, with a blue-green icy stem. She carefully placed it in the vase, then turned and curtsied. "Good morning, Mother."

"Good morning, Elsa. I'm curious – how did you get that book out of the library?"

"Oh." Elsa looked like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I sneaked down there last night after everyone was in bed, so no one would see me. Should I put it back?"

"Of course not! That's the royal library, and you're royal. It's also the family library, and you're family." The queen glanced at the flowers again. "Do you realize that most sculptors would give their right arms to be able to make fine details like the ones you've made there?"

"It's not hard," Elsa said casually. "I just think about what I want to see happen, and it happens. I think I'm getting better with practice." That was no exaggeration – this morning's flower crop included irises, lilies, roses (buds and blossoms), the chrysanthemum, half a dozen exotic-looking blooms that she didn't recognize, and three perfect Arendelle tulips. Every leaf and every petal was reproduced in exact detail. They were worthy of an art exhibition, and Elsa just tossed them off as a stress-reduction exercise! _What could she do if she really pushed herself?_ Idun wondered.

"They're beautiful," she nodded. "Would you like to try something a little different? Something that would be a help to Kai and Gerda?"

"Oh, yes!" Elsa exclaimed, then looked nervous. "They won't see me, will they?"

"No, they won't," Idun reassured her. "They're both cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. We're going to go down into the basement, you and I."

"Father used to tell me and Anna that the basement and the dungeons weren't good places for a young lady."

"I know," she nodded, "and he's right. We aren't going to make a habit of this. It's a one-time visit for a special reason. I am _not_ teaching you that it's okay to disobey your father!"

"You're not?"

 _Okay, Idun, how are you going to handle this one?_

She knelt next to her daughter. "Elsa, your father means well, but he isn't going to change his mind about 'conceal, don't feel' until we can prove to him that 'let it go' works better. He's your father, and he's the king, and we're supposed to do what he tells us to do. The only reason we're going behind his back is because… because I'm your mother and I can't bear to see you suffering any longer."

" _We're_ going behind his back?" Elsa had picked up on Idun's choice of words. "Does that mean you're disobeying him, too?"

Idun rested her hands on Elsa's shoulders. "The last time your power got away from you, and you begged us not to get too close because you didn't want to hurt us, you broke my heart. That's not how daughters are supposed to relate to their parents! I will do whatever it takes… I will do _anything_ … to give you back your childhood, or what's left of it. If your father catches us and isn't happy about it, I will take all the blame. I'm willing to take that risk for you."

"For me?" Elsa couldn't believe it. "Why?"

"Because I love you, and because you're worth it." Elsa threw herself at her mother, weeping silently into her shoulder, and Idun whispered, "And I'm sorry I haven't been telling you those things all your life. That's going to change." She waited until her daughter pulled herself together before asking, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, Mother. Making these flowers really helps. Thank you."

"Shall we go, then?" Elsa followed her mother down the back staircase, all the way down to the palace's basement. These dark, dingy halls were truly no place for a lady. In days gone by, they were the palace dungeon, holding those unfortunate people who had committed crimes against the state or offended their sovereign. A couple of cells were maintained for their original purpose, just in case they were ever needed, but most of the basement was now used for storage – extra furniture, cleaning supplies, the royal wine cellar, boxes for 1000 salad plates, and one large chamber for cold storage of food. That chamber was kept cold by blocks of ice that slowly melted and were replaced weekly. Keeping the chamber cold was important, because it held a month's worth of meat and produce. That was a lot of food to have to throw away and replace if it went bad.

Idun found her way to that chamber and opened the door. "We had a problem with the ice delivery this week, Elsa. We need some more ice to get us through until the delivery man gets back on schedule. I know this isn't very interesting work, but it will be a big help."

Elsa looked at the remaining ice. "Is this something I'm going to do every week?"

"Definitely not," her mother replied. "This kind of thing isn't appropriate for a queen, or a princess for that matter. I'm asking you to do this only because we're looking for new and better ways for you to let it go, and this will be a big help to Kai and Gerda. It's a one-time situation that, hopefully, will never come up again."

Elsa looked around the poorly-lit room. "This is easy!" she exclaimed. "They're just big blocks!" She gestured with her hands, and a full-sized block of ice appeared on top of the older, shrunken blocks. "How many should I make?" she asked, as though it was no big deal to create an ice block that was heavier than she was.

"Don't fill the room," Idun advised her. "Just make enough to last for a day or two. If the ice man gets here and finds that someone else has already done his job, he'll want to know who did it, and that could raise some awkward questions for us."

"And we don't want to take his job away, right?" Elsa asked.

"Right," her mother nodded. "That's a good lesson to learn, by the way. You could do this yourself every week, but then the ice man would lose his biggest customer, and his children would go hungry. Don't go changing things just for the sake of change; consider everything that might be affected by the decisions you make."

"Is this another royalty lesson?" Elsa grimaced.

"Yes, it is," Idun nodded. "It sounds like you already understand the principle, though. Now, make one layer of ice blocks around the walls, and we'll decide if that's enough." Elsa nodded and began jabbing with her hands at the walls. Wherever she pointed, a big block of ice came into being with a "shhhPOP" noise. It took her no more than twenty seconds to create enough ice to keep the chamber cool for a day or more.

"That looks good," her mother said. "Just make a few more, as a partial second layer, and I think we'll be all set." Elsa waved at the walls, and half-a-dozen more blocks of ice materialized. "Perfect! How do you feel?"

Elsa thought for a moment. "It's like exercising, only backwards. The more I let it go, the more relaxed I feel. Right now, after making all this ice, I feel like I could even meet Anna again and not be afraid."

"Would you like to?" The words were out of Idun's mouth before she thought them through.

 **o**

Anna was trying to occupy herself in the great living room of the palace. She'd done all her schoolwork; now she just had to mark time until supper. She wasn't the type who could lose herself in a book, and arts and crafts bored her after a while. No, the sky was awake, so she was awake, so she had to _play!_ But there was no one for her to play with.

She was acting out an imaginary conversation between Joan of Arc, whose portrait hung on one wall, and a lute player whose painting hung on another wall. In Anna's mind, the lute player was trying to ask Joan for a date, but all Joan wanted to do was ride into battle. The dialog wasn't going well for the lute player.

"Anna?" Her mother's voice startled her.

"I did all my schoolwork, Mother, honest! I can say my multiplication tables if you want."

"That's okay, Anna; that's not why I'm here. I've brought someone who would like to meet you." That statement baffled Anna. They hadn't had any visitors to the palace today – she was sure of it. Who would want to meet her?

From behind Idun's skirts stepped an oddly familiar-looking blonde girl, who –

" _ELSA!_ " Anna screamed and broke into a run, her arms outstretched. Elsa shrank back behind her mother's skirt; Idun held up both hands.

"Anna, _stop!_ Be ladylike! Remember?" Anna skidded to a halt on the wooden floor, looking abashed and excited at the same time.

"How can I be ladylike at a time like this?" she exclaimed.

"Because that's what your sister needs you to do," her mother admonished her. "You told me you could be a big girl about this. Can you do it?"

It took all of little Anna's willpower, but she kept her arms at her sides and slowly walked toward her mother. Elsa peered around her mother's skirt, looking somewhat nervous now.

"Elsa? Is that really you?" Her big sister nodded solemnly.

"Why are you scared?"

"Anna… I'm afraid I might hurt you again, like I did before. I don't ever want to do that again."

"Me neither," Anna said, with a serious air that would have made Idun laugh under other circumstances. "If you did, then I couldn't see you again for four more years."

Elsa stared into Anna's wide, trusting eyes for a few silent seconds, then burst out from behind her mother's skirt and threw her arms around her sister. They held each other wordlessly, rocking each other back and forth, while Queen Idun fought back tears.

All she could think was, _Now I_ _know_ _I've done the right thing_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Women's Work** Chapter 7

King Agdar turned to his wife sadly as they finished breakfast. "Are you ready for the ordeal?"

"What ordeal is that, dear?"

"I haven't visited Elsa in two or three days. I'm long overdue. Shall we do this?"

"Are you telling me that seeing your daughter is an ordeal?" she demanded.

"No, but the ice... the snow... the fear, most of all... _those_ are an ordeal. I just don't know what I can do for her! But leaving her alone isn't an option, no matter how helpless I feel afterwards. Let's go. Maybe she's having a good day for a change."

Idun hesitated. What would her husband say when he saw the ice flowers? Could she possibly distract him while she ran upstairs to warn Elsa to hide her handiwork? No, he was headed up right now. She followed him, fingers crossed. They waited until Elsa had passed her breakfast tray out the door for Gerda to collect, then knocked.

"Who is it?"

"It's your father and mother."

"Okay. You may come in."

Now it was Agdar's turn to hesitate. There was no fear or nervousness in Elsa's voice; he nearly didn't recognize her. "She almost sounds normal," he whispered to Idun as he opened the door… and stopped dead in his tracks.

Elsa and Anna were kneeling side-by-side on the floor, playing marbles. The younger daughter was coaching the older in how to pick the easiest targets. Idun realized that the marbles were made of ice; Agdar didn't notice. He was too shocked by other developments.

"Anna... what are you _doing_ in here?"

"Playing marbles, Papa," she answered, as though it was obvious (which it was).

"You know you're not allowed in here! And Elsa, why aren't you wearing your gloves?"

"I couldn't shoot marbles with gloves on, Father," she replied respectfully.

Ever since Elsa's power had first manifested itself, King Agdar of Arendelle had been at a loss to know what to do about her. She had never deliberately caused problems, but her very nature was a problem he had been utterly unable to solve. He was almost accustomed to feeling lost and confused when dealing with his oldest daughter. But this… _this_ might go down in the history of his kingdom as the most bizarre, flabbergasting situation he had ever encountered. He took a deep breath before he opened his mouth.

"I consider myself a reasonable monarch. I set certain rules, and I expect those rules to be obeyed! Anna, go to your room and stay there until I come; we're going to have a little talk in a few minutes. Idun, please wait out in the hall while I talk to Elsa."

Anna retreated quickly, looking stunned and hurt that her fun morning with her sister had been cut short so abruptly. Idun watched her go, then turned to Elsa and saw the beginnings of fear in her daughter's eyes. "I think I should stay."

Agdar showed a trace of anger, but took a deep breath and mastered it. "Was my government overthrown during the night, and no one remembered to inform me about it? Why won't _anyone_ in this palace do what I tell them? Idun, please step outside."

Idun had been married to Agdar for fourteen years. She had never refused to obey her husband before. But now, she had to make a choice. She made it. "She's my daughter too. I will stay."

"Fine." The King turned his back on the Queen and faced the Crown Princess. "You know what we expect of you. You're supposed to learn to conceal your power, to keep your sister and the rest of us safe. And how did I just find you? Right next to your sister, without your gloves, wide-open for another accident just like the last one!"

"Father, she was next to me, not in front of me, so she'd be safe," Elsa began. "And when I made the marbles, I made sure she was –"

"You _made_ those marbles?" He threw his hands up in the air. "You're supposed to be learning to conceal your power, not letting it out! Have you found any other ways to disobey me?" He noticed the ice flowers in the vase for the first time. He took a deep breath and looked around the room. There were two icy copies of paintings on the wall, and even the lacy curtains in front of the window looked like they were made out of ice. He touched them, just to be sure. They were cold.

Before he could say another word, Idun stepped between him and Elsa. "Agdar, the idea was for her to learn to keep her power under control. She's doing it! Look at these works of art she's made!"

"I'm looking at proof that my orders are not being obeyed, Idun! This doesn't involve you. For the last time, please step aside."

"Agdar, are your eyes even open? Look at your daughter! She's not afraid! She's not in a panic! Her powers aren't leaking out all over the place! She was sitting calmly on the floor, playing happily with her sister! Can't you see an amazing change when it's right in front of your eyes?"

His eyes narrowed. "This didn't seem to take you by surprise, Idun. Are you involved with this 'change' somehow?"

She braced herself. "Yes, Agdar. It was my idea that she learn to control her power by practicing with it. Don't be angry at her for obeying her mother."

The king was seething, but he forced himself to keep his breathing level. He did not want to lose his temper in front of his daughter. "Elsa, we will talk about this later. For now, I want you to put your gloves back on, destroy all this ice that you've made, and go back to learning how to control yourself, the way I told you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father," she whispered, close to tears.

"Idun, you will accompany me to our chamber." He walked stiffly out of the room. She followed quietly. Just before she left the room, she turned back and whispered, "It's going to be okay." Elsa didn't look like she believed it.

Agdar waited until his wife had entered the royal chamber. Then he firmly closed the door. "Which part of my instructions did you not understand?" he demanded, quietly but firmly.

"Which part of 'your way isn't working' don't _you_ understand?" she shot back.

"Idun, what's gotten into you? In fourteen years of marriage, you've never crossed me before!"

"That's because you were never so completely wrong about our daughter before."

He threw up his hands. "Idun, none of us knows what to do about her! You were with me when we went to the trolls; you saw what's going to her if she can't learn to conceal her power!"

"Agdar…" She hated to say this, but she saw no choice. "You're wrong. The chief of the trolls didn't tell her to _conceal_ her power. He told her to _control_ it. They aren't the same thing at all."

"Controlling it _means_ concealing it!" he burst out. "What's going to happen when she becomes the Queen, and the kingdom finds out about her power? They'll call her a witch, they'll rise up against her, and…" He left the thought unfinished. "Can't you understand what's at stake here? It's our daughter's life, it's our family line… the rulership of the entire kingdom is at risk! How can you just do your own thing and pretend that the King of Arendelle hasn't said anything about it?"

"Agdar, when I married you, one of the things I learned to love about you was that you were willing to make hard decisions. I never knew that you'd stick to those decisions even when common sense was telling you to try something different." She looked him in the eye. "The troll chief said fear would be her enemy. Think back to what you just saw in that room! Was there any fear there? For the first time in four long years, she was calm and contented –"

"…and one uncontrolled moment away from injuring her sister again!" he interrupted.

"But she's _got_ control! Can't you see? She's been so afraid of hurting anyone… do you think she'd let Anna into her room if there was the slightest doubt in her mind that her sister would be safe?" She rested her hands on his shoulders; he turned away. "Agdar, you saw those icy flowers. You saw her paintings on the wall. There isn't a sculptor in all Norway who can do what she does! If that isn't control, then what is?"

"Idun, for four years, I've been teaching her to conceal, don't feel, don't let it show!"

"And for four long years, _it... hasn't..._ _worked_ _!_ How can a little girl not feel? You're asking the impossible of her!"

"It's not impossible! The trolls wouldn't have taken away Anna's memories if those memories were good ones. Elsa has got to learn to act like a normal person, or she'll never be an effective queen!"

"Agdar, please look at me." He reluctantly turned back to face her. "Our daughter cannot learn to act like a normal person because she is _not_ a normal person. Asking her to hide her power is like asking her to grow up to be a man – there is no way under God's sun that she can do it! We have to accept her as she is." Her voice dropped. "And we have to love her as she is."

He sighed. "Idun, you may love her any way you want to, as long as you aren't in any danger. But Elsa is going to be my successor, and it is my responsibility as the King to make her a worthy successor. You talked about me being willing to make hard decisions; well, this is a hard decision! I know it won't be easy for her, or for us. But by the time you and I are gone, she'll have had so much practice concealing her power that she'll be able to reign like me, and like my father before me, and his father, all the way back to the first King of Arendelle. I have to take the long view, Idun, and I can't afford to be sentimental."

"Even when your own daughter is suffering?"

He struggled to maintain his self-control. "Idun, you're a woman, and I can't expect you to be coldly logical about this. Please believe me when I tell you I didn't reach this decision easily. It's for her own good, and for the good of the kingdom." She began to speak, but he held up one hand. "Not another word! This is the only way, and if you can't back me up, then I have to ask you to not be involved. You're free to be her mother, but let me be the King. Will you do this?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," she said bitterly.

He reached for her; it was her turn to pull away. "Idun, please don't take that tone with me! I love you, I love Elsa, I love Arendelle… I'm being pulled in too many different directions at once! If I can't make everybody happy, then shouldn't I try to do the greatest good?"

"The greatest good would be for you to open your eyes," she said. "When you look into Elsa's room, you see a future queen. I see a little girl. Can't you see her for who she is? Do you have to focus on what she's going to be?"

"Yes, I have to," he said sadly. "It's part of being the King. I don't think we're ever going to see eye-to-eye on this one."

She reached for the door handle. He didn't say anything as she opened the door and stepped out. She didn't slam the door; that would have been far too rude, no matter how frustrated she felt. She speed-walked down the hall and down the back stairway, grabbed the winter coat that she kept by the door, and almost ran to her greenhouse. She needed to be alone.

The moment she stepped inside, she realized that Elsa had obeyed her father's command. In the flower pot where her ice flower had stood, there was only a small damp spot in the soil.

Idun fell down on her knees and wept uncontrollably.


	8. Chapter 8

**Women's Work** Chapter 8

King Agdar's little talks with his daughters didn't go well.

He tried to be rational with Elsa and explain why "conceal, don't feel" was still the only practical solution for her problems. She nodded in agreement, but it was obvious that she didn't really believe him. The more insistent he became, the further away she shrank from him. When snow began falling from the ceiling, he gave up and left. At least she was wearing her gloves again.

Anna was even less rational. All she wanted was to spend time with her sister and play with her. He couldn't make her understand that Elsa was still a potential threat until she'd learned to keep her power completely under wraps. His younger daughter was almost in tears by the time he gave up and left.

Whatever sedition his wife had been spreading through the palace, she'd certainly done a fine job of it. No one believed anything the King said anymore! He didn't even want to know if the servants were in on this. He retreated to the library. He had to think.

What, exactly, had the troll chief said? He repeated the scene in his head one more time. "Listen to me, Elsa. Your power will only grow. There is beauty in it, but also great danger. You must learn to conceal it" – no, that's not what he said. Idun was right. "You must learn to control it. Fear will be your enemy."

What did that mean? How much would her power grow? Why couldn't that confounded troll have given him some useful information about _how_ she was supposed to control it?

Agdar thought about that, then thought some more. Then, at last, the light came on, and he almost wished it hadn't. _How could I have been so dense? The troll chief wasn't talking to me at all! He was talking to Elsa! It's_ _her_ _job to learn to control her power, not mine!_

 _That means it's her responsibility. It's on her shoulders, small though they may be. It wasn't my place to take over her task, only to help her somehow. In my desire to make things better, I took her job away and tried to make her do it my way. Now I'm stunned that my way isn't working the way I think it should. What do I know about cold powers, anyway? Elsa is the expert, not me!_

 _But what about the people's opinion? They'll never accept her if they know about her secret! She has to conceal it, or everyone in the kingdom will become her enemy!_

 _No, that's not what the troll said. He said fear will be her enemy._

 _Whose fear? At this point, the only one who's afraid of Elsa is Elsa. And I have to admit, when I opened her door, that was the first time since the accident that she wasn't acting afraid._

 _Is her own fear the fear that the troll was talking about? And if it is, have I made it worse with my meddling in things I know nothing about? May God have mercy on me!_

 _That still didn't make it okay for my wife to ignore my wishes and do what she pleased._

 _Perhaps not, but I can't argue with the fact that, whatever she's done, it has borne some good fruit in my daughter's life. My way never brought her anything but stress and more fear._

 _What has my wife done, anyway?_

He sighed as he stood. _The historians will probably record all my faults after I'm gone, but they won't be able to say I was too proud to admit a mistake. At least, not this time_.

Idun was pulling herself together when she heard a tapping at the greenhouse door. It was her husband. As the King, he didn't need to ask permission to enter any part of the palace. It was simply a courtesy for him to request entry to the Queen's Garden. He didn't seem angry anymore, but she had no idea what was on his mind. She opened the door, braced herself, and waited for him to speak.

"Idun, will you walk in the garden with me, please?" She was _not_ expecting that.

Walking in the palace gardens was Agdar's way of spending time alone, much like retreating to the greenhouse was Idun's way of getting some personal space. When he wanted her to walk with him, it was always to discuss some thorny problem he was facing, and to ask her advice. He would sometimes have to conceal names and places from her, and just describe the general situation, but he would still listen to whatever she had to say. She cherished those walks; they showed how much he valued her counsel. Those walks never took place in the winter, though – the gardens were buried in snow, and Kai seldom had time to shovel the paths.

"We can't walk very far," she observed.

"We don't have to," he nodded. She stepped out of the greenhouse and closed the door. They walked about five steps into the garden before the snow became too deep to walk in, so they stopped.

"Tell me what you did for Elsa," he began. "Please."

She told him about the mud in her hand, and the let-it-go sessions that had progressed from random blasts of cold to useful expressions of the beauty that lay in Elsa's heart, and the ice blocks in the basement, and Elsa's reunion with Anna. Agdar wanted to hit himself.

"So those ice flowers… she wasn't just showing off? They were some kind of therapy?"

"They're much more than just therapy, Agdar! They're the means by which she's slowly gaining control over her power! The more she uses that power, the better she can control it. It's like any other talent – she can't master it by pretending it's not there. Can't you remember when she was little, and she never had problems like the ones she's been having?"

"I remember snow and ice all over the house," he recalled. "It seems to me that _that_ was a problem."

"But she was doing that on purpose!" Idun explained. "The power wasn't leaking out of her uncontrollably, the way it has been lately. She was just being a child – a very powerful child, but still a child."

Agdar rested a hand on his wife's shoulder. "She's not a child anymore. She's twelve. Her powers are probably a lot stronger than they were then."

"Her will power is also stronger," Idun reminded him.

"Are you sure she can learn to do it, your way?"

"Agdar, it's not _my_ way. It's _her_ way. It's the only way that will ever work, because it's the only way that deals with her _as she is_. And yes, I know she can do it, because I've seen her do it. She says the more she uses her power, the more relaxed she feels, and the less pressure there is for the cold to leak out. That's when she can control it. She can actually look forward to a day when she can be herself, without fear!"

Agdar sighed. "If only that were true, Idun. If we were common folk, with no one to worry about except our own family and friends, it could happen. But Elsa is going to be queen of Arendelle someday. Will our religious citizens accept her as their queen if they think she's an ice-witch?"

"Can't we prepare the people for her?" Idun asked. "Isn't there some way to help them accept her as she is?"

"Even if there was a way, which I doubt, it wouldn't help with the big picture," her husband replied. "We could never prepare or convince our neighbors in other nations that her special powers aren't the work of the devil. The Catholic nations around us, and a lot of the Protestant ones, would probably draw straws for the privilege of invading Arendelle and wiping out what they'd see as a great evil. The first time our daughter makes snow while the crown is on her head, half of Europe will mark her with a death sentence."

He took a deep breath and went on. "My love, nothing would make me happier than to see Elsa free to be who she is. But no matter how we work things out in the privacy of the palace, she is going to have to 'conceal, don't feel' when she's out in public. Her ability to reign will depend on it. Her very _life_ might depend on it."

Idun weighed his words in her mind, and she was forced to agree with him. She desperately wanted to believe that everyone would love and accept her daughter the same way that she did, but she knew it wasn't going to work that way. The average person was too afraid of things he didn't understand, and _no one_ understood Elsa's power, not even Elsa.

"Agdar, will you at least admit that, if she can find new ways to keep her power under control in private, that will help her when she's in public?"

"Yes," he said heavily. "I admit that. She'll have to find those ways, and use them for all they're worth. Anything that helps her maintain control, anything at all, is worth trying. If you've found a way that works, then I'll swallow my pride and admit I was wrong, and give the two of you the go-ahead to work together. Maybe you can really harness that amazing power of hers."

"Won't you help us?" she asked plaintively. "She wants to make you happy so badly!"

"I'll definitely be more involved in her life," he said in reply, "but I'm going to leave the cold therapy to you. You obviously have more of a knack for it than I do, and I don't want to make an even bigger mess of my daughter's life than I already have. If I see something going wrong, I will say something about it, but for now, you have a free hand. I take back what I said about Elsa releasing her power in the palace. Help her control her powers, your way. I mean her way." He paused to take a breath. "Maybe I'll learn something, too."

Idun threw her arms around him. "That's the other thing I loved about you when I married you. You usually listened to me."

"I always listen to you," he whispered. "But listening to you and heeding what I'm hearing are two different things."

"Today, they were the same thing," she whispered back, "and that's all that matters. Now, let's go talk to our daughter."

 **o**

When they knocked on her door, her "Come in" sounded thin and fearful. They found her standing in the middle of the rug, which was frozen solid all around her. She looked ashamed and embarrassed, as though she'd lost control of one of her bodily functions (which, in her own way, she had). Agdar felt his own moment of shame. _Is this what 'conceal, don't feel' has done to my daughter? Is this what_ _I've_ _done to her?_

He turned to Idun. "Where do I start?" She didn't answer, but he knew what she was thinking.

He got down on one knee before Elsa, so he could look her in the eye. His knee felt cold; he ignored it. She backed away a step and looked like she was ready to break and run, even though there was no place for her to go. He spoke slowly and softly.

"Elsa, I'm sorry. I've been wrong. 'Conceal, don't feel' doesn't work. I won't expect that of you in the palace anymore."

She still looked fearful. "Really?"

"Really. We're going to make some changes around here. The new rule will be, 'No cold-facing.' That means you won't ever use your power on someone, or when you're facing toward someone. Aside from that, you and your mother can experiment with different ways of... what did you call it, dear?"

"Letting it go," Idun answered quietly. "That's what we call it when she uses her power in a safe, controlled way, so it won't leak out later."

"Let it go, then," he nodded. "On the day when you step outside the palace grounds, there will be some different rules, but in here, when it's just us, go ahead and let it go. I think we'll all be better off that way."

Now Elsa's eyes were shining; the fearful look was gone. "Really, Father?" He nodded. She took a hesitant step toward him, pivoted and made a quick ice-painting on the wall, then threw herself at him. He returned her hug, rocking her back and forth, much the way Elsa and Anna had done when they first met. _It must run in the family,_ Idun thought as she wiped away a tear.

At last, they let each other go. "What now?" Elsa whispered.

"I think it would be good if you spent some time with Anna," her father decided.

"Aren't I supposed to be practicing my penmanship?" she wondered.

"No, you should be playing with your sister. That's long overdue. You can work on the penmanship later."

"Thank you, Father!" she exclaimed. Then, more quietly, she added, "Thank you so much. You don't know what this means to me... I love you." She kissed him on the cheek and scampered out the door and down the hall to Anna's room.

The King of Arendelle felt his cheek, which was warm; then he reached down and felt the rug, which was still frozen but was beginning to thaw. "I feel like such a fool."

"A fool won't change his course when he can see rocks ahead," Idun replied, trying very hard not to smile. "You've changed your course, and hers as well."

"What was the ice-painting on the wall for?" he asked her. "Are you sure she isn't showing off?"

"That was 'letting it go' in action, dear. She was making sure her power wasn't going to leak out before she hugged you. She's taught herself that habit, to help keep everyone around her safe."

"Four years of 'conceal, don't feel,' and it never became a habit with her. A few days of 'let it go,' and she's already learning good habits?" He shook his head. "Do you think it's too late for her? Have we... have I done her too much harm already?"

"It's never too late, Agdar. She's young, and she's resilient, and I think she's a lot stronger than we realize. If you can change, then I _know_ she can."

"Are you saying she takes after me?" he wondered.

"Of course she does," Idun said, and let herself smile. "She's smart, she's flexible, she's brave, and she has the makings of a fine sovereign."

He embraced his wife, who hugged him back. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he whispered, "but keep talking."


	9. Chapter 9

**Women's Work** Chapter 9

Thus began Elsa's slow transition from powerful, frightened girl to powerful, reasonably confident girl. It wasn't a straight road, and it had a few bumps along the way, but everyone concerned agreed that Elsa's life from ages 12 to 17 went a lot more smoothly than her life from 8 to 12.

One of the first bumps came when the royal family sat down to dinner one Thursday night, and Gerda brought out a tray of grilled-cheese sandwiches. To the girls, this was an unfamiliar and very tasty treat, but to a King and a Queen accustomed to dining on royal fare, it was something of a disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Your Highnesses, but this was all I had time to make," Gerda apologized. "I had to spend half my afternoon helping Kai clean up the water on the grand staircase. I didn't have time to make a proper supper."

Agdar turned to Elsa. "Water on the grand staircase? Elsa, do you have any idea how that might have gotten there?"

She flushed and looked at her supper plate.

"Young lady, I asked you a question."

Anna spoke up. "We just wanted to make a bobsled track, and the grand staircase was the best place for it. You won't believe how fast we went, before we went flying off the track! We cleaned it up afterwards."

"Apparently, you didn't clean it up enough," Idun said, with just a hint of an edge to her voice. "It isn't fair to make the servants work extra-hard to fix your messes, Elsa. That's not the way 'let it go' is supposed to work."

"I didn't mean to make it melt that fast," Elsa said apologetically. "I just wanted to melt it into pieces so we could carry them outside. I'm still not so good at melting ice. It's a lot harder than freezing it."

"I see." The King looked thoughtful because he was reluctant to get angry at her. "And how are you going to keep this from happening again?"

"I know!" Anna exclaimed. "We can hire a cook, like we used to have! That way, if we make another mess and Gerda has to help clean it up, we can still have a nice supper!"

"That's not the kind of solution I had in mind, Anna," Agdar said patiently.

"But it's not a bad idea," his wife thought out loud. "We don't have to run this palace with a skeleton crew anymore, now that Elsa's power isn't a threat to anyone." She turned to Gerda. "Do you know someone who's a good cook, good enough to work for royalty?"

"Yes, I do, your Highness!" Gerda exclaimed. "My niece Alina is quite a good cook – better than I am, in fact – and she needs a way to earn a living until she can find a husband. She'd be willing to clean the kitchen as well. That will give Kai and me more time for the rest of the palace."

"Can she be discreet about the unusual things she'll see in the palace?" Agdar wanted to know. "The last thing we want is someone writing a tell-all book about Arendelle's crown princess and her special talent."

"She'll be the very soul of discretion," Gerda promised.

"Very well," Idun nodded. "Bring her in for an interview. I'd like to talk to her, and I'd like to see her kitchen skills." It was agreed – the palace would take on an additional servant, and there would be no more bobsled tracks on the grand staircase. The next day, Gerda's niece passed her cooking test with flying colors by making a treat that the girls hadn't had in years – krumkakes! She solemnly promised that whatever happened in the palace would stay in the palace, and she was hired. This was a big relief to Gerda, who now had enough time to keep everything outside the kitchen as clean and dust-free as it ought to be.

That was the beginning of the rebirth of Arendelle's palace staff. Other servants followed – a groom for the horses, a seamstress who doubled as laundress, a groundskeeper, a tutor for the girls' schooling. King Agdar never was as servant-crazed as some European sovereigns, but the responsibility of being King came with a few privileges, and both he and Idun had missed those privileges over the years. Now, when noble visitors came to the palace, they encountered something that looked like a normal staff on duty. Kai and Gerda's work load was much reduced, which was good for them and also for the King and the Queen. Their senior servants' roles slowly evolved from general housekeepers into personal assistants to their sovereigns, managing their schedules and keeping track of the many details of their lives. That, in turn, helped the King and Queen relax and focus on reigning, and their relaxation helped Elsa remain unstressed. Who knew that hiring a cook could have such far-reaching ramifications?

Then there was the summer day when the King stepped out for a private walk in the palace gardens. An envoy from the Duchy of Ålesund was trying to arrange a trade treaty with Arendelle, and even though both realms wanted the deal, they couldn't quite get together on the terms. He needed to get away from the negotiations for a while. He needed to think. What he _didn't_ need was to hear his older daughter yell, "Pull!" and be showered with chunks of snow a few seconds later.

He glanced up the path to see Elsa, who stared back, horrified. "Cease fire! Cease fire!" she shouted in a panic. "The range is fouled! Father, I'm so sorry!"

He brushed the snow out of his hair and shook it off his jacket; it began melting as soon as it hit the ground. "Elsa, would you mind explaining what's going on here?"

She ran over to him, stopped, then slowly got closer until she was within polite conversation range. "I was just... practicing."

"Practicing?" he asked. "Practicing what?"

"I was reading a book about sports yesterday," she began nervously, "and I found out about something called 'trap shooting.' It sounded like fun, but I know I can't play with your shotguns, so..."

"So she made some snowballs for me to throw," Anna chimed in as she joined them. "When she yells, 'Pull!' that's when I throw a snowball up in the air, like this!" She demonstrated her underhanded throwing technique. "And then she points at it with her finger, and cold comes out, and if she hits the snowball, it goes 'pfft' and blows up! It's fun! We never played that game before."

"I made sure she threw them away from herself, so I wouldn't break the no-cold-facing rule," Elsa finished. She hung her head and folded her hands. "But I didn't think of what would happen if someone else came up the path. I broke the rule. I'm sorry, Father."

He knelt beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Elsa, this was just one of those things that happens sometimes. It was an accident. No one got hurt, and I'm not angry, just a little bit cold and a little bit surprised. I forgive you."

"Thank you," she half-smiled, and paused. "Aren't you going to ask me how I'm going to keep this from happening again?"

"Elsa, you're not the queen yet, and you do _not_ have the right to steal the king's lines," he smiled back. "But, now that you mention it, how _do_ you intend to keep this from happening again?"

She thought hard. "I don't know. It's not fair to make you call out when you step into the gardens, and there are so many bends in the paths that we can't always see you coming. I don't know, Father."

He considered the matter. "I can't think of a long-term answer, unless we give you your own trap-shooting range. For now... Anna, show me where these snowballs are. Elsa, take your position. I want to see this trap-shooting in action."

For a moment, Elsa's face showed pure disbelief. Then she scampered up the path and stopped, waiting. "This way, Papa," Anna exclaimed as she siezed his hand and dragged him down another path, around a stone wall, and up the path in a different direction. He soon noticed a small pile of snowballs on the ground. He picked one up and prepared to lob it into the sky.

"No, Papa, that's the wrong way!" Anna exclaimed. "If you throw it toward her, that means she's shooting her power toward you! No cold-facing! You have to throw it that way."

The King turned and faced in the direction his youngest daughter had indicated. "The range is clear," he called, and waited. _Elsa can manipulate snow and ice at will,_ he thought, _and Anna thinks that's the most natural thing in the world. This is amazing_. His reverie was broken by a shout from a hundred feet away. "Pull!"

He heaved the snowball straight up, putting all his strength into it. He wanted it to fly far higher than Anna could throw; he wanted to test Elsa's abilities. But a thin shaft of visible cold speared the snowball before it rose thirty feet. It blew apart into puffy white chunks that scattered all over the garden.

 _All right, Elsa, if you're that good, then I'll put some spin on the ball,_ he thought. He shouted, "Ready!" and a few seconds later, Elsa responded, "Pull!" He lobbed two snowballs into the air, one from each hand. She pulverized one, but a second shaft of cold missed the other snowball. A moment later, a third shaft got it.

"Elsa, you missed one!" he called.

"I tried to do it right-handed," Elsa called back. "I'm still not as good with my right hand as I am with my left. Can we try that again? I mean, can we _please_ try that again?"

King Agdar never got his relaxing walk in the palace garden that afternoon. But the time he spent playing with his daughters was as relaxing, and as mentally refreshing, as any walk could ever have been. When he realized it was getting late and the envoy from Ålesund was waiting for him, he broke off the game and returned to the palace with a spring in his step. They hammered out a tentative agreement before supper was served.

Not all of Elsa's situations resolved themselves that neatly, though. There was the autumn afternoon when the King was looking for his Queen, and couldn't find her. "I think I saw her headed upstairs a while ago, Your Highness," Kai offered. Agdar ascended the grand staircase in a dignified way, then relaxed when he got to the second floor and the servants couldn't see him. He looked in their royal chamber first; she wasn't there. He was about to tap on Elsa's door when the door swung open and Idun dashed out, covered with snow and shivering violently. A cloud of snowflakes flew out the door before a strong wind from within slammed it shut. He brushed her off and held her until the shivering stopped. Only then did he speak. "What _happened_ in there? Did Elsa have a relapse?"

"No, it wasn't her fault," Idun said hesitantly. "Not really. I was trying to give her The Talk."

"The talk?" Agdar wasn't sure he understood.

"In case you hadn't noticed, our little girl is turning into a young woman," Idun said. "I thought it was time she learned some of the facts about... well, you know... men, and women, and what happens when you're married..."

"Oh, _that_ talk!" Agdar was secretly glad his wife had taken it upon herself to handle this part of Elsa's education. He was well-qualified to talk about boys and men, but communicating that information to a teen-aged girl was a task he wasn't looking forward to. He glanced at the door; the handle was slightly frosty. "She didn't take it well?"

"I think I got a little too graphic when I was describing the wedding night," his wife admitted. "The next thing I knew, a cold front was sweeping in from the northwest, and... Agdar, those are Arctic conditions in there! I hate to leave her in a panic like that, but I don't think I'm ready to face that storm again!"

"Ask Gerda to get your winter coat and boots out of storage," he suggested. "Try it again when you're dressed for cold weather. Would you like me to go with you for moral support?"

"Thank you for the offer," she nodded, "but that would embarrass her even more than The Talk did. I remember being a teen-ager, and getting The Talk from my own parents, one at a time, and that was embarrassing enough! After she's gotten over the shock of what I've told her, you can tell her what young men are like. I suggest you wear your coat, hat, and gloves."

Agdar rolled his eyes. "We've finally gotten her to the point where she doesn't have to wear her gloves indoors, and now _we_ have to wear them? Where's the justice in that?"

"Parenthood is not for cowards," she intoned solemnly.

 **o**

 _A/N  
One of the reviewers for "Frozen Together" (or "Thawing Together," I'm not sure which) suggested a scene where Elsa's parents try to tell her about the facts of life, and it goes horribly wrong. I've searched my reviews and can't find that message. If the reviewer who had that idea would PM me, I'll give you credit for the very similar scene I wrote here._


	10. Chapter 10

**Women's Work** Chapter 10

 _A/N  
This story has just passed the 3100-hit mark. It's not as popular as "Frozen Together" (49,000 hits), but I'm still thankful to all my faithful readers._

 **o**

"Your Highness, you have a visitor," Kai announced. His voice was formal, but his expression was puzzled.

The King looked up from the tariff law he was about to sign. "Very well, Kai. I've got a few minutes. Show him in."

"There's a small difficulty with that, sir," his servant replied. "He insists that he has to meet with you in the stable area. He says no one else should be with you except the Crown Princess."

Now he had Agdar's full attention. "Could this be some kind of assassination attempt? Do we know this man?"

"Yes, sir, we do. He's the alternate ice delivery man; he's been to the palace many times. He is… how shall I put it? He is somewhat odiferous, but I believe he means no harm. He said it was very important, sir."

"Hmm." He signed the document with a flourish and rose. "Please tell our visitor I will be with him in a few minutes. I'll have to find Elsa."

"Yes, Your Highness." Kai bowed quickly and left.

Elsa wasn't hard to find. She was always looking for new, creative ways to keep her power from building up inside her. Her current "hobby" was to wander around the palace in search of flowers in vases, and make frozen copies of them, vases and all. When she was done, she'd bring her work to the kitchen, where Gerda would leave them in the sink until they melted. This time, Agdar found her in the library, bracketing each "real" vase with two icy mirror-images.

"That's quite a nice effect, Elsa," he called from the doorway.

"Thank you, Father," she nodded with a partial curtsy.

"Would you walk with me, please?" he asked. "We have a visitor in the stables. He specifically asked for the two of us."

For a moment, she looked stressed. Then she gestured and "grew" some extra flowers in some of the vases, and visibly relaxed. "All right," she nodded. She walked two steps behind him as they followed the hallways that led to the stables.

When they got there, Kai was waiting for them. Next to him stood the alternate ice delivery man, a good-looking blond youth about Elsa's age, standing next to his sleigh and the reindeer that drew it. There was no ice in the sleigh today, just a large gray rock. Kai whispered something, and the young man took off his hat and bowed clumsily.

"You may rise," King Agdar said, and the young man straightened. "I'm told that you wanted to see me and my daughter about something important?"

"Yes, sir," the youth said nervously. "Well, actually, no, sir, it's not me. I mean… well, would it be all right if…?" He glanced awkwardly at Kai.

"You're dismissed," Agdar said kindly. Kai nodded and left. The ice man waited until he was gone, then turned and spoke to the rock.

"There's no one here but me, the King, and the Princess," he said to it. After a second, the rock shifted, flipped over, and unfolded itself into the chief of the trolls, complete with his staff. Agdar forced himself to keep his expression neutral. Elsa stepped back in dismay. The last time she'd seen the Grand Pabbie, it had been the worst day of her life, and the mystical pictures he'd shown her had terrified her. He wasn't a source of good memories to her.

The troll chief stepped down from the sled, using his staff as a walking stick. "Your Highness, I apologize for this unusual way of contacting you. It was convenient that a human who knows us is also someone with access to the palace."

"I welcome you," Agdar answered courteously. He wasn't sure who outranked whom here, so he would treat the chief as an equal until he learned otherwise.

"The last time our paths crossed, it was a time of crisis for you," the Grand Pabbie went on. "Did your youngest daughter make a full recovery?"

"She did, sir," the king replied. "She suffered no ill effects, except for a memory loss." He paused. "That memory loss has recently reversed itself."

"Indeed?" the troll asked. "I sensed that my work had been undone in some way. That is why I came. Has she suffered any ill effects from what she has been through?"

"No, she's a perfectly healthy, normal girl."

"There were no repercussions at all?" the chief wondered.

"None that I am aware of," the king said.

"Except that she doesn't trust trolls now, because you took away her favorite memories," Elsa added with a slight edge to her voice.

The Grand Pabbie looked up at her. "Did you have any role in this?"

"Well… the memories were about me, but she got her memory back all by herself," Elsa stammered.

The troll nodded. "The mind can be persuaded, but that persuasion is not a guaranteed thing. Sometimes the memories do return on their own. Whether that is a good thing or not will depend on you." He looked her up and down; she had the uncomfortable sensation that he was looking right through her. "Hmmm… yes, you have gained a great deal of control over your power. Perhaps not as much as I might have hoped, after all these years, but certainly adequate."

"That part is not her fault, sir," Agdar interjected. "I compelled her to hide her power for years. She made no progress during that time. She has been learning real control for about half the years that have passed. There have been no more incidents since that one mishap that brought us to you."

The Grand Pabbie nodded again. "In that case, your progress is even more impressive. Elsa, one of the reasons I came here is to bring you an important message. Somehow, in a way that I do not understand, your destiny has been changed."

"Is that because I've learned to control my power?" she asked.

"It goes much deeper than that, Elsa. I sense the fulfillment of a very old prophecy." He looked away, raised his hands, and chanted,

"Fate be changed, look inside.  
"Mend the bond torn by pride."

He looked back at her. "Either you, or someone close to you, has mended a bond torn by pride. As a result, your fate has been changed."

"I think that would be me," Agdar admitted. "It was my pride that held her in prison for four years when she could have been learning to control her power. I've seen my folly, and made it right, to the best of my ability. But what part of her fate has been changed? What would it have been, and what will it be?"

The troll shook his head gently. "It is not for us to know what might have been. And I am not God – I cannot see the future. All I can do is to assure you that the decision you have made, and the changes that have come to pass as a result, will have a much greater impact than you can imagine. I believe it will be very much for the better, and it will affect Elsa's loved ones as well as herself."

Elsa looked confused. "But… if we don't know what my destiny would have been, then how will we know if it's been changed?"

"A perceptive question," the Grand Pabbie nodded. "The future is a tricky thing – it is always difficult to know how these things work. In the past, people in similar situations have told me that they somehow knew their fate was changed, at the moment it happened. All I can say for certain is that something good has occurred in the timeline of your life, and you will bring the ones you love along with you on that altered timeline."

"This sounds confusing," she admitted, and her father nodded in agreement.

"It may become clearer at some point in the future," the troll chief said. "My mission was not to confuse you. In fact, my real reason for this visit was to check on Anna. If she has suffered no ill effects from what has happened, then I am content. Delivering my message about your destiny was secondary." He grunted as he climbed back into the sled. "I've done what I came to do, and I'm pleased that you've made such progress, Elsa. Take this last piece of wisdom with you:

"Things concealed will be revealed,  
"And what you did cannot be hid."

Before she could ask him what he meant, he had flipped around and folded himself back into a rock. Agdar glanced at his daughter. "I guess that's the end of the conversation."

"He can be like that, sir," the ice man offered. "He isn't being rude; he just has a lot on his mind. I guess my work here is done."

"I hope that work didn't interfere with you making a living," the king said kindly.

"It's not a problem, sir," the young man replied. "At this time of year, an ice man mostly makes endless trips from the lakes to the storage cellars and back. It was kind of fun to do something different for a change. But I do have to get moving, if I want to bring the Grand Pabbie home and find a place to bed down before it gets dark." He pulled out a carrot from his coat pocket, allowed his reindeer to bite off half of it, and ate the other half, which made Adgar cringe and Elsa squirm in disgust. Then he hopped into the driver's seat, flicked the reins, and rode out the side gates to... wherever his next destination was.

"Father... what did that mean?" Elsa asked.

"I honestly don't know," he answered. "The last time we saw him, he saved your sister's life, took some of her memories away, and gave you some advice that I totally misinterpreted. I hate to say 'ignore him,' but we seem to do better when we work out our own destinies, rather than relying too hard on the trolls and guessing at what their mystical pronouncements mean."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "For a moment, I was afraid that you might take another guess at his meaning, and I'd wind up in my room again for four more years."

He rested his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. "Even if I wanted to guess at his meaning, which I don't, I have no clue at all what he was telling us. 'Let it go' is working perfectly well for you, so we'll stick with that. Destiny will play itself out, with our cooperation or without it, just like it always has." He smiled at his daughter. "Everything is going to be just fine."


	11. Chapter 11

**Women's Work** Chapter 11

"What do you think, Elsa? Are you sure you're ready for today's big adventure?"

The King glanced at his oldest daughter. She answered with a nod. She looked slightly nervous, but she was nowhere near losing control. He'd had her make ice-flowers for all the vases in the palace, just to be sure. Behind them, Idun waited patiently, and Anna could barely wait at all.

"All right," he said. "You give the command."

Elsa faced forward, took a breath, opened her mouth... and nothing came out. She cleared her throat nervously and tried again. "Guards, open up the gates!" The palace guards swung the heavy wooden gates inward, and the royal family rode out on horseback together for the first time ever.

They had been working up to this moment for months. Elsa's horsemanship was adequate for a girl her age, as was Anna's. Their horses were perfectly groomed and well-trained. Agdar had considered just riding out without telling anyone, but Kai had respectfully reminded him that it was customary for the King to let his people know in advance that he was coming, so as to minimize the inevitable disruptions of people's routines in the town. He'd had leaflets printed and posted, and sent out the town crier, so the people of the town would know that the royal family was out. He just didn't mention that, for the first time, the Crown Princess would be joining them.

She rode next to him, side-saddle, very dignified but not hostile or frosty. She kept her eyes on where she was going, not on the crowds of people who thronged the streets, bowing and curtsying as they rode past. He occasionally gave a royal wave (just a dignified raising of the hand) to the people, as did Queen Idun. Anna was smiling and gaily waving to everyone, and enjoying herself thoroughly. Elsa kept her hands on the reins.

Word quickly spread throughout the town that the royal ride included the long-absent Princess Elsa. People left their shops and their trades to see her, creating a much bigger crowd in the streets than usual. "Is that Princess Elsa?" "Look, it's the Crown Princess!" "Princess Elsa is out!" "She's beautiful!" She kept her eyes and her mind on what she was doing and didn't return anyone's greeting. Some were disappointed. To others, this confirmed the rumor that she had been seriously ill and wasn't completely healed. A few thought she was rude and remote. The great majority were just glad to see her, and were not shy about saying so.

They encountered one snag when they neared the outskirts of town and a boy of about nine years ran out in front of them. Elsa's horse stopped by herself, even before Elsa could pull back on the reins. "Mosvald!" the boy's mother gasped. "Get out of the street!"

"I never saw a Princess before," he explained, without moving.

"You've seen Princess Anna plenty of times!" his father called. "Now obey your mother!"

"Yeah, but Anna's just a girl," Mosvald replied. "Elsa is a _real_ princess!"

Mosvald's mother grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back to the sidewalk. "Our apologies, Your Excellency," the boy's father stammered.

"It's all right," Elsa managed to say. She flicked the reins and the family rode on.

Once they were out of the town and far away from prying ears, Anna turned to her mother. "What did that boy mean when he said I'm just a girl and not a real princess?"

"I think he meant that you act like a regular girl, instead of being royally dignified," Idun answered her. "He's right, you know."

"But being dignified is so boring!" Anna protested.

"Still, you're royalty, and the people expect you to act that way," her father called over his shoulder. "Your sister has learned that lesson, and they recognized it right away. It wouldn't hurt you to be a little more dignified when we're out in public."

"But why?" Anna asked plaintively. "Elsa has to be dignified because she's going to be the Queen, but I'm just going to be a princess all my life! Why do I have to act like her?"

"You don't know the future, Anna," Idun admonished her. "What if you marry a Crown Prince from some other country? Then you'll be the queen of that country, and you'll have to be _very_ dignified. You might as well start practicing now."

"Oh. I never thought of that," Anna said. She was very quiet for the rest of the ride.

"Father, can you explain something?" Elsa wondered as they headed back to town. "Why are people so excited to see me when they don't even know me?"

"It's because you aren't just a girl to them," Agdar said, nudging his horse closer to hers. "You're a symbol. If things are going well in your kingdom, you'll represent everything good that's happening. If things are going badly, you'll represent everything that's going wrong. Today, you represent hope for the future. People always need hope. That's why behaving like a princess is so important, Elsa. You're the visible image of everything good that they hope will happen in their lives."

"This is a royalty lesson, in case you didn't guess," Idun called from behind her.

Elsa grimaced. "Yes, Mother, I did guess that. But I can see how that would be important." As they neared the town and the crowds of people who were waiting to see her again, she pulled herself upright in the saddle and tried to smile a little.

 **o**

Today was a big day for Elsa. It was the first time she would attend a meeting of the Nobles' Council.

The Council met monthly, and more often if necessary, to give the King advice on domestic and foreign matters. Agdar found their advice to be self-serving and questionable for the most part, but law and royal etiquette required him to allow the dukes, counts, and barons the chance to speak. Idun would rarely join him for these meetings – she found the members of the Council to be tedious, selfish, and all too ready to stab each other in the back. Someday, Elsa would sit in Agdar's place at the head of the meeting table; today would be her first chance to see what lay in store for her.

Agdar sat in the special chair at the table's head, with Princess Elsa in the place of honor on his right, where visiting dignitaries would usually sit. On his left sat the highest-ranking noble in the realm, the Duke of Erl, a fairly handsome man with some talent, a lot of ambition, and not much common sense. It was rumored that his wife made most of the decisions regarding the day-to-day-running of his duchy. There was something about the man that made Agdar's skin crawl.

Next to the Duke sat the Duchess of Potet, who had more ambition in her little finger than the Duke had in his entire body. Her father had had one son and two daughters, and when the son died in a mountain-climbing accident, the duchy passed to the eldest daughter. She was a sharp businesswoman who helped her duchy prosper, and she gave good advice on political matters, but she never missed a chance to make the other nobles look small. She and Queen Idun were barely on speaking terms.

Next to her sat Count Duku, the highest-ranking of Arendelle's three counts. It was no secret that he loved money and the trappings of wealth more than anything else. Barely a year went by without him selling his yacht so he could buy a better one. At least he was skilled at handling his money, so the king trusted his advice when it came to finances. In other matters, he was unimaginative and predictable, but he served his King loyally.

Beside him sat Count Nelsen, the oldest and most unpleasant of the kingdom's nobles. He'd spent his entire life looking on the negative side of things, and stirring up strife so others could share his negativity. If there was a way to twist someone's words or accuse them of something dark, he would find it. He had no friends on the Council, and no permanent allies; the others sought his support only when they needed a co-conspirator for some scheme of theirs.

Then there was Count Basi, probably the most fair-minded of the nobles. He was a solid, reliable man who had learned the art of governing from his father, and learned it well. His only fault was that he tended to vote with the majority, even if he disagreed with them, so as not to draw their ire. His county was small, but he managed it wisely.

Finally, there was Baron Anders, a plain-looking boy who was only a bit older than Elsa. He had inherited his tiny barony just a few months ago, upon the death of his father. He was the lowest-ranking member of the Council and the only one who was not of noble birth, and the other nobles never missed a chance to remind him of it. He usually sat in silence, speaking only when there was a long pause in the discussion. His ideas were unconventional, but sensible for the most part. Agdar suspected that he could become a useful ally to the Crown when he got older, if the other nobles didn't ruin him first.

Agdar knew all these things, but he didn't reveal any of them to Elsa. He wanted her to approach this meeting with no preconceived notions. His goal was to find out how perceptive she was, and how accurate a judge of people she could be. Those skills would serve her well when it was her turn to wear the crown.

"Thank you all for coming," he began. "I hate to drag you indoors on such a beautiful spring day, but duty calls us all. Before we start, I wish to formally introduce my daughter, Crown Princess Elsa. She will not be taking an active part in this meeting; she is here to observe and learn. Does anyone have any objections?" There were none. "Very well, then. Shall we begin? We'll start with the usual reports about the status of your domains. Duke?"

"I suppose things are going well enough, Your Highness," the Duke of Erl stated. "The cost of seeds for rye and barley has gone up since last year, and I'm afraid my farmers have had to cut back on their plantings, or plant less lucrative crops, as a result. That's going to affect the revenue I'll bring in for the kingdom in the fall, I fear."

"Kai, make a note of that, please." The servant at the far end of the table nodded and wrote in his notebook. "Is there anything else I ought to know, Duke?"

"No, Your Highness. Except that our new trade agreement with Ålesund is paying off well, now that we've worked out the details of the shipping schedule. Trading our excess wool for fish was definitely a good idea."

"Thank you, Duke," the King said. "Duchess?"

"Potet is thriving, Your Highness," she said crisply, then gave a smirk in the Duke's direction. "We also saw the price of seeds rising. But I have deferred my people's tax payments until after the harvest, so they had enough money in their pockets to plant their usual crop. My duchy will contribute a bit less to the royal treasury in the spring, but we'll make up for it in the fall." The Duke scowled back at her.

Count Duku was the next to give his report. "I, too, was concerned about the price of grain seed. Fortunately, I have a contact just across the Swedish border, and he found a seed supplier who could undercut our local suppliers' prices. Even with the extra expense of shipping, my people actually saved money this year, and we expect the harvest to be as bountiful as usual. We are also having a bumper crop of wool; the sheep grew unusually fleecy last winter."

On they went. Nelsen had loaned his people money to pay for their seed, to be repaid (with interest) when the grain was harvested. Basi had tapped into his county's special seed storage, normally reserved for emergencies like famine; he'd refill it at harvest time. Anders had traded some of last year's cheese and fleece to the Duchy of Weselton in exchange for enough seed to let his people plant full fields. Every one of them had found a different way to offset the rise in seed prices except the Duke of Erl, and with the exception of Baron Anders, they all made sure he knew about it. He looked like he was ready to strangle someone by the time they were done reporting.

"Thank you," the king said, steepling his hands. "Now, are there any other issues in the kingdom that I should know about?"

"Your Highness, I have a minor issue," Count Nelsen began, "but I think it would be best if the Princess stepped out of the conference room before I begin."

"The Princess is here to learn," the King replied patiently. "It is my wish that she stay."

"Some of the things I have to say may not be appropriate for a young lady's ears," the Count retorted.

"In all my years as king, I have never heard anything that bad in this chamber," Agdar replied evenly, "and if it really _is_ that bad, then perhaps you should ask the Duchess to excuse herself as well." He had thrown down the gauntlet, and the Count did not dare pick it up without incurring the Duchess' wrath.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said tightly. He began to describe a border dispute between one of his shepherds and a cattle-herder in Erl, regarding some unusually lush pasture land. The Duke angrily retorted that the land in question was part of Erl, and had been so for at least a century. They went back and forth, each blaming the other for altered property lines and broken fences, until the King had had enough. He held up his hands for silence.

"Since you can't seem to settle this yourselves, it falls to me to settle it," he sighed. Then he had a thought. "Princess Elsa, if you had to deal with this problem, how would you handle it?"

"Excuse me, Your Highness," Nelsen interjected. "You said the girl was here to observe and learn, not to take an active part in the meeting."

" _Count_ Nelsen," the King replied sternly, "I remind you that 'the girl' is the crown princess of Arendelle, and if you should outlive me, then she will be your Queen some day. I suggest that you remember that, and treat her with the respect that she deserves. She is not making decisions or dictating terms today, but it is my royal wish that she get some practice handling problems among the nobility." He turned back to Elsa. "As I was saying, how would you handle this dispute?"

"Well," she said hesitantly, "I guess the best thing would be if someone neutral built a strong fence to show where the border is."

"Excellent!" Agdar exclaimed. "My thoughts exactly. Kai, find me an honest man who can read and write, and who owes nothing to either the Duke or the Count. Give that man the maps of the kingdom's land grants, and charge him to determine the border in the disputed area and build a stout fence along that border." Then he glared at the two warring noblemen. "That fence, and all the lands for three feet on either side of it, will be the property of the Crown. Anyone who damages that fence, or moves it, or allows his livestock to cross it, will incur my personal wrath. Are there any objections?" Both nobles looked like they still had plenty to say, but the King had spoken and that was that.

"Good. Are there any other issues I need to know about?" There were none. "I have no international issues that require your advice, so I believe we're done. Thank you for your time, ladies, gentlemen. This meeting is dismissed." He stood; that was the nobles' cue to stand and leave the room, barely acknowledging the existence of the others. Kai also left on the errand the King had given him. That left Agdar and Elsa in the meeting room. They sat down again.

"First off, Elsa, I'm proud of you. There wasn't a trace of ice or snow in the room the whole time, even when the discussion was getting heated. You did well. That's what I was hoping 'conceal, don't feel' would do, and I'm just as happy that 'let it go' works even better."

"Thank you, Father," she said politely but with traces of joy.

"So, what did you think of the meeting?" he asked.

She grimaced. "That border argument reminded me of when Anna and I were little, and we'd fight over who got to play with the best toys."

"There are some similarities," he nodded, trying not to smile too broadly. "What did you think of the nobles?"

"Except for Basi, and maybe Anders, I think you should leave them in their domains to run their own lands, and you should run the kingdom yourself," she decided. "They made more problems for you than they solved."

"It's not usually that bad," her father said. "I'll admit it's a tempting thought, but the law requires the nobles to advise me, and they do have a good idea now and then. What did you think of the other nobles?"

"Well, Count Duku likes money too much," she began. "Count Nelsen is a troublemaker, the Duke isn't as smart as he thinks he is, and the Duchess... I think she'd like to be the Queen if she could."

"Elsa, I'm very impressed!" he exclaimed. "You learned all that just by observing them today?"

"No, Father," she confessed. "I learned those things from listening to you over the years. Sometimes you make comments at the dinner table when the nobles frustrate you."

Agdar fought the urge to do a facepalm. "I still think you're very observant, Elsa, just not in the way I'd intended. Did you have any questions about the meeting?"

"Yes. Why didn't the Count want me to hear what he was going to say? He didn't say anything bad."

"I think he just didn't want any unnecessary witnesses to him being a useless lackwit," he replied. "No, I shouldn't have said that out loud – it was disrespectful – and if I ever hear you using those words to describe him or anyone else, you will be in serious trouble! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father," she said seriously, and then added with a twinkle in her eye, "You really need to work on 'Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show'."

The King of Arendelle tried to hold back his laughter, but it leaked out anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Women's Work** Chapter 12

"You look happy, my dear," King Agdar observed. It was the first time he'd seen his wife since breakfast, and she looked as excited as… as excited as Anna, if such a thing was possible.

"You're not going to _believe_ the message that just came in on a ship from Corona!" she exclaimed.

He thought hard about what could be that exciting. "They got some news about my missing niece?" he speculated.

"They've _found_ her!" she burst out. "She's alive and well, she was brought back home by a fine young man, and we're invited to the wedding!"

"That _is_ good news," he smiled. He'd never met Rapunzel, the famous "lost princess," but he could imagine how he would have felt if one of his own daughters had been kidnapped as a baby. His sister Primrose, the queen of Corona, and her husband must be beside themselves with joy. "When is the wedding?"

"In the fall," Idun answered.

"Can we go?" Anna asked from the other side of the table. "I mean, can we please go? I haven't been to Corona since I was little!"

"It will be nice to meet another princess who's my age," Elsa added wistfully.

"Girls, I'm sorry, but your names aren't on the invitation," Idun said regretfully. "Corona isn't a wealthy kingdom, and they'll be inviting royalty from all over Europe; I guess they couldn't afford to invite all the children as well." At their daughters' crestfallen expressions, she added, "We'll make it up to you. We'll arrange another trip to Corona, some time after the wedding. You'll be able to spend more time with your cousin that way. Weddings are bad times for the bride to have a family reunion anyway."

They nodded reluctantly, the King had Kai add the wedding to their schedule, and life went on.

When the day came for the King and Queen to board the ship that would take them to Corona, Anna was excited, even though she wasn't going. She ran down the hall and skidded to a stop in front of Elsa's door. She almost knocked, but decided against it. Elsa didn't spend her life in her room anymore; she was probably out in the gardens, letting it go, or curled up with a book in the library. Anna scampered down the hallway to the royal suite, where her parents were finishing their packing. She hugged them both. "See you in two weeks," she said.

Elsa caught up with them at the bottom of the back stairway. She wasn't nearly as excited as Anna. She still relied on her mother to help guide her through life's more stressful moments, and now she would be facing those moments alone for fourteen days or more. She curtsied unhappily. "Do you _have_ to go?" she asked nervously.

"You'll be fine, Elsa," her father said comfortingly. She started to turn away, unconvinced. That was when one of the palace guards entered and saluted.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Your Highnesses, but a messenger just arrived from the harbor with a message for you. He said it was important." The king took the envelope, returned the guard's salute, and waited until he left before opening the message.

"Well! This is interesting, although the timing is unfortunate. It seems my sister made a small mistake on our wedding invitation. The girls were supposed to be invited as well."

Elsa's face lit up. "Can we go? Please? I know you're almost headed out the door, but… is it too late?"

Agdar rested a hand on her shoulder. "Too late? You and I have learned some lessons about that. No, it's not too late. Go tell your sister you're going. Kai, Gerda, I'm sorry to ask this of you on such short notice, but please help the princesses do a fast packing job for a two-week-trip."

"Thank you, Father!" "Yes, Your Highness." "At once, Your Highness." Suddenly there was just Agdar and Idun in the back-stairway landing.

"Neither of them has a new dress for a royal wedding," the Queen noted.

"I'm sure they'll be able to find something in Corona," her husband replied.

"You're right, I hope," Idun said. "Elsa isn't very picky about things like that anyway. As long as it's blue, she's happy."

"She does like her blue dresses," he answered. "Maybe we should have named her Merryweather. Speaking of which, it's the start of the storm season. We may be in for some very 'merry' weather indeed before we get to Corona."

"I'm not worried," she said.

A day and a night out on their journey, she had changed her mind. Their ship was caught in a howling storm that had come up so suddenly, the crew barely had time to take in sail before the wind burst the canvas. Waves that were taller than the ship washed toward them like moving mountains, rolling them over so far that even the most experienced sailors had to hold onto something or they'd fall overboard. The royal family stayed in their cabin where it was safer (but not by much), clinging to the ship's timbers and hoping that the furniture didn't break loose and start sliding all over the room. Elsa had found a secure perch in a window well near one of the fantail windows. Every few minutes, she would make a flower out of ice, then toss it out the window so the sailors wouldn't see it.

They all looked pale, they all were afraid, and they all knew that the others felt the same way. Three of them were thinking the same thought: _what's going to happen if Elsa becomes too afraid?_ No one said anything; they didn't want to make things worse for her. Idun kept checking the deck around Elsa's feet. So far, there was no sign of ice.

Then there was a deafening crash, and the entire ship lurched sharply. "That didn't sound good," Agdar said. He released his hold on the wall, slid to the door as the ship pitched, and stepped out onto the main deck, holding tightly to the door frame. He'd meant for this to be a solo excursion, but his entire family followed him closely. It was hard to see in the darkness of the storm and the wave-swept chaos of the ship, but it looked like they'd just lost most of the ship's mizzenmast. A team of sailors was cutting away the shrouds and stays before the top half of the mast pounded a hole in the hull. No one noticed the ship turning broadside to the wind and the waves. One of those monster waves was bearing down on them fast. When it broke across the deck, it would sweep everyone into the sea, and it might very well sink the ship. Nothing could stop it.

Agdar pushed his wife behind him, as though shielding her with his body might help somehow.

Idun clung to her husband and reached for Anna with her other hand.

Anna screamed and clutched at her father.

Elsa went wide-eyed with fear, braced herself against the bulkhead, and silently flung her hands out toward the wave, as if she was trying to push it away. Twin shafts of visible cold, bright in the stormy darkness, flashed out from her hands and struck the huge wave…

…and in the half a second before the wave would have destroyed the ship, it became an iceberg, shining brilliantly in the reflected light from a nearby lightning strike. Even though much of it quickly sank below the surface, it still had all the mass and the momentum of the wave it had been, and a moment later, it crashed into the ship, splintering its wooden side and heeling it over sharply. Elsa went flying with a cry; Agdar reached out with one arm and caught her before she fell over the side. Her braid came loose from around her head and came to rest on her left shoulder.

She didn't look scared now, but determined, almost angry, as though the wave-turned-to-ice had offended her by trying to harm her and her family. Again the twin cold-bolts flashed out from her hands. The water around the ship froze to ice a foot thick, and the effect spread rapidly. Within five seconds, the ship was locked in an ice floe a hundred yards across and still growing. The iceberg was also caught in the floe, and its mass kept the rest of the ice from moving very far. The ship's rolling stopped instantly. The wind was still howling, and water was still pouring in through the hole in her side, but they couldn't sink – the ice held them up.

For just a moment, the wind stopped blowing. In that moment, Elsa could have sworn she heard a distant voice whisper, "Fate be changed."

Everyone else on board was staring in shock at Elsa. Visible waves of cold were still radiating off her hands; there was no question who was responsible for their sudden deliverance.

Agdar was thinking, _Look at all that ice! How many millions of cubic feet of water did she just freeze? I had no idea she was_ _that_ _powerful. No wonder she couldn't conceal it!_

Idun thought, _Did she do that because she was frightened, or because she was protecting us, or both? She really looks scared. Is she going to be all right?_

Anna thought, _If she'd done that to my head when I was five, I wouldn't exist anymore. Even then, when everyone thought she was out of control, she was holding back._

Elsa was staring from her hands, to the ice, to the ashen faces of the sailors and thinking, _What have I done?_

The sailors' thoughts were much harder to quantify. Sailors are a superstitious lot. They will quickly attach the label "Jonah" to anyone who seems unlucky, and once applied, that label is almost unshakable. They are slower to acknowledge a source of good luck, but that belief, if anything, is even more unshakable. The ship's crew had just come within a hair of extinction; they knew exactly who had saved them, though they had no idea how; and now that they were beginning to breathe again, they felt like they had to decide whether the King's daughter was a sea witch or their new patron saint.

She certainly didn't _look_ like a sea witch. The fact that she was their princess helped, too. On the other hand, she had just unleashed some kind of unknown power from her hands, with an unheard-of result. Some of the sailors smiled at her, some edged away, and the majority couldn't make up their minds.

One of those undecided sailors decided to get the facts. He hesitantly approached the royal family, tipped his hat to the King and Queen, and said to Elsa, "Thank you for saving us, my lady." He held out his hammy, calloused hand to shake hers. He was an uneducated sailor who knew nothing about royal protocol. He didn't know that princesses don't shake the hands of commoners. He just knew that she'd done something amazing, he owed her his life, and there was a burning question he had to get the answer to.

Elsa hesitated, mastered the last of her fear, and shook his hand lightly. "You're welcome," she said nervously. He retreated to where the rest of the sailors waited on deck.

"She feels normal," he whispered to them. For the undecided ones, that settled it. They formed a line to shake the Princess' hand and thank her for rescuing them. The King decided not to stand on royal protocol this time, and watched carefully but said nothing. This was not a normal situation. For her part, Idun carefully kept her expression neutral, but she was bursting with pride on the inside. Elsa had controlled her fear through the whole storm, and then had taken exactly the right action to save all their lives, without hurting anyone. Now she was back in "conceal, don't feel" mode, and even though she was still in the middle of a storm, on a ship that was on the verge of sinking, and surrounded by strangers, she was acting as calm and collected as any princess could be expected to do under the circumstances.

Now the ship's captain approached them. "Your Highness, I've been at sea for thirty-seven years, and I've seen a lot of things, but I have _never_ seen anything like that! I owe you and your daughter my thanks, and the thanks of every man on board."

"You're welcome, Captain," he replied.

"Encased in ice as we are, we aren't going anywhere," the captain went on, "so we'll use our time to patch the hole in the hull, and lash a spar to the stump of the mizzenmast so we can raise some kind of sail aft. Once the storm blows out, your daughter can make her ice go away, however she does that, and we'll reach Corona as soon as we can. I'll do my best not to make you late, Your Highness, storm or no storm."

"I'm sure you will do your best," the King replied. "We will return to our cabin, so we won't be in your way." He gestured for his wife and children to join him, and pulled the door shut behind him. Then he wrapped up his daughter in a bear hug. "Elsa, that was amazing! _You_ are amazing! We're all still alive because of you!"

"Thank you, Father," she murmured into his shoulder. When he let her go, she added, "But some of those sailors didn't look so thankful."

He glanced sadly at Idun. "It's what I was afraid of, on a smaller scale – most of the people will love her, but a few will fear her."

The Queen of Arendelle thought that over. "Elsa, what are you going to do about that?"

"What am _I_ going to do?" Elsa wasn't expecting that question.

"Your father wanted you to conceal your powers in public, but that's obviously out of the question now. When we return to Arendelle, those sailors are going to tell _everyone_ what you did today. Most of them will call it good news, but they'll all tell the kingdom about you and your power. Your secret isn't going to stay secret for much longer."

"It's just like what the troll chief told you in advance," Agdar added –

"Things concealed will be revealed,  
"And what you did cannot be hid."

Idun nodded. "Now it's just a question of what you're going to do about it. You're going to be the queen someday. The people won't automatically hand you their hearts on a silver platter; it will be your job to win their devotion. This is a perfect chance for you to practice that. There are just a few dozen people on the ship, and only a handful who mistrust your power. I'll stay in the background in case something goes badly wrong, but this is your opportunity. You've been practicing with your cold powers; now it's time to practice with your heart and your mind."

"Is this another royalty lesson, Mother?" Elsa grimaced.

"Yes, it is, and it might be one of the most important lessons of all."

Elsa glanced at her hands again. _I just froze an iceberg, but what can I do for frozen hearts?_

 **o**

 _A/N  
I owe a "thank you" to Concolor44 for his reviews to "Growing Together," in which he made suggestions about how ice can keep a ship from sinking. That suggestion didn't work for "Growing Together," but was perfect for this story._


	13. Chapter 13

**Women's Work** Chapter 13

Elsa opened the cabin door and cautiously stepped out on deck. Even though the ship was nearly motionless, she still had to watch her step; the deck was wet and slippery, and her shoes weren't made for good traction. She searched the sailors on the main deck for those who had pulled away from her when she unleashed her power, and didn't see any of them. They were probably all belowdecks, repairing the damage from the ship's collision with her iceberg. She headed down into the dimly-lit belowdecks area, where princesses almost never went.

She found one man checking the packing between hull planks for potential leaks. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"No!" he replied without even looking at her. He poked at a joint between planks with a caulking iron, and the oakum gave way. Water spurted in under pressure, spraying him in the face; he backed away out of reflex. Before he could do anything else, Elsa had sealed the joint with a quick jet of ice.

"That will hold it for a few minutes," she explained. "You can fix it properly without getting water in your face."

"Thank you," he answered, surprised, with a glance over his shoulder at her.

She found a team of men trying to pump the bottom of the ship dry. The icy-cold sea water on their feet made it impossible for them to work the pumps for more than a minute or two at a time, forcing them to constantly stop working and let someone else take a turn. They weren't making any progress against the flooding that way. She gestured and created an ice dam on one side of the ship, holding back about half of the incoming water. The pumps soon made headway against the other half, lowering the water level so the men at the pumps could stay at their post without freezing their feet. "Thank you, Your Highness!" they called as they labored.

She found another team trying to bail out an isolated section of the ship with buckets. She thought hard before she gestured this time. The water in the compartment suddenly froze into blocks of ice a foot across. The bucket brigade turned into an ice-passing brigade, whose work went a lot faster because they didn't have to worry about spilling the water, and they didn't have to pass any empty buckets back the way they came. "Thank you very much, Princess," one of them said.

She worked her way from one end of the ship to the other and back again. One helpful gesture at a time, she won over almost all of the crew. There were two or three stubborn hold-outs, but that was human nature. Idun had to admit it was a very impressive performance by a young lady whose people skills weren't as developed as her control over her powers. When she reported to her husband, he nodded in smug satisfaction.

"You were right, Idun. She _does_ take after me."

"Does she really?" Idun said with a slight edge to her voice. "Are you sure you would want her to take your place if she had an attitude like that?" She stretched out her hands, and her voice dropped to a threatening growl. "In place of a king, you would have a queen! Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Treacherous as the sea! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love her and despair!" Then she relaxed. "Or would you rather have a daughter who has learned self-control and humility the hard way? One who can rule people effectively because she's seen the dark underside of what it means to be human, and has come out the other side, a little battered, but still victorious?"

"Am I getting proud again?" he asked meekly. "Thank you for the warning. I don't want to go there again. Still, it would have been a good sign if she'd won all of the sailors over."

"King Agdar, what are you asking of your daughter? Have _you_ won over all of our subjects?"

"No, you're right," he admitted. "It looks like ten percent of the sailors love her, ten percent fear her, and the rest will accept her. That's better than most monarchs can do. It's probably better than I've done."

It took the crew the better part of two days to mend the hull, fix the leaks, pump out all the water, and jury-rig the broken mizzenmast. During that time, the storm blew itself out, leaving only a strong breeze, perfect for sailing. The captain finally decided that they were as shipshape as they ever would be, and prepared to give the orders to raise sail and resume their journey. But there was one obstacle remaining.

"Your Highness, can your daughter remove the ice from around the ship, so we can sail?"

"Yes, Captain. I'll speak to her at once." The King wasn't quite sure where Elsa might be found, but there weren't too many places she could hide. He finally found her out on the ice floe, gazing up at the iceberg that used to be an ocean wave. She'd frozen it as it began to break; the top was still curled over, motionless but vaguely threatening. "Elsa, could you join us on board, please?" She returned to the ship, climbing the ladder in a reasonably ladylike fashion, and stood before him.

"Yes, Father?"

"The crew are ready to sail as soon as you melt the ice around the ship."

She suddenly looked nervous. "Father, melting ice is hard. I don't know if I can melt that much at once."

He looked puzzled. "Why is it difficult? You made the ice; can't you un-make it?"

"It's not the same thing at all, Father." When he looked unconvinced, she added, "Can _you_ melt ice?" He shook his head. "See? It's not so easy."

"Maybe it's not easy, Elsa, but you need to try. We'll be stuck here for a week if we wait for the ice to melt on its own."

Reluctantly, she nodded and climbed up to the fo'c'sle, where she had a fine view of the ice that surrounded the ship. Her family watched expectantly. The crew stood on the main deck, waiting for her to act. She thought hard, trying to figure out how to make ice melt. She gestured at the ice several times, but nothing seemed to happen. She turned to her family and shrugged, frustrated.

"I don't know how," she finally said, feeling totally defeated.

"You can do it, Elsa," Anna replied.

"I know you can do it," her mother added.

"We love you, and we have complete confidence in you," her father said.

She looked at them as they gazed back at her. They really believed that she could do this! Their confidence and their love made her feel warm all over, in spite of her inability to earn that confidence.

Warm all over…

She looked over the side, to the ice that she'd created. She just smiled and thought about the ice melting away. She gestured at it because that's what everyone else expected of her, but the gesture wasn't the answer. Love was the answer. The surface of the ice grew shiny. Water began to slosh around on top of the floe as the waves slowly rocked it. Part of the ice cracked with a sound like a rifle shot; a big chunk floated away. More cracks resounded. The ice floe was breaking up into smaller and smaller pieces. She pushed her hand toward the iceberg, which slid smoothly away from the ship before another collision could inflict more damage. The ship lurched to one side as it splashed back into the water, then floated evenly.

"You did it," Anna whispered. "I knew you could. And I like what you did with your hair."

The captain shouted, "Belowdecks, report!"

"No major leaks, sir," came the reply. "We're patching the minor ones. The ship is in no danger."

The captain bowed toward Elsa. "Thank you, my lady. I'll actually look forward to bringing you home. You might be even luckier than having a Davy Jones on board." Then he turned his attention to his sailors in the rigging. "Set the courses and topsails! We're getting under weigh!"

Idun leaned over to whisper in Agdar's ear. "I think she won their hearts. What do you think?"

"I have no more qualms about handing her the throne someday," he murmured back. "I still don't know how the nations around us will react to her, but if this voyage was any indicator, she might be the best queen Arendelle ever had." Idun planted her hands on her hips and gave him The Look, which made him backpedal in something close to panic. "Queen Regnant! The best Queen Regnant ever! That's what I meant to say!"

"Of course you did, dear," she smiled dangerously.

The rest of the voyage was uneventful, and they reached Corona with plenty of time to spare. The princesses were able to find dresses in time for the wedding, and even get them properly fitted by a seamstress. Elsa's dress needed more than just fitting; it showed far too much of her leg and shoulders for Idun's liking, and required some significant alterations. Elsa loved the pale-blue color of it, though.

They also got to meet their long-lost cousin, Princess Rapunzel, the day before the ceremony and share their stories with each other, which left Anna feeling slightly miffed. "Am I the only princess around here who was born without any special powers?" she fussed.

"Trust me – you're better off," both Elsa and Rapunzel said at once, then giggled at each other.

Later that day, the King and Queen of Arendelle sat on a balcony of the palace with the King and Queen of Corona, watching their children below. Rapunzel and Eugene had gotten into a game of badminton with Elsa and Anna; they had set aside all the trials they had been through, and were taking a rare chance to just relax and play.

Idun took a moment to think about all that had happened recently. Elsa was still destined to be the Queen of Arendelle, but now, all her subjects would know about her special ability. Could she lead a normal life? Could she reign effectively? Would they be able to find a nice young prince who would willingly marry a girl like her? There were so many questions, and so few answers! She glanced down into the courtyard. Elsa was playing the game with great enthusiasm, not a lot of skill, and no evidence whatsoever that she was either fighting her power or using it to help her win. She looked... normal.

Maybe she _could_ lead something close to a normal life.

"I have to hand it to you, Agdar, Idun," Queen Primrose said suddenly. "You've raised your daughters to be proper young ladies. Anna is quite high-spirited, but she still can turn into a princess when she wants to, and Elsa… it seems to come naturally to her. Some girls struggle to act like royalty, especially when they're destined to be queen, but she knows her part cold."

Then she realized what she'd just said, and all four royals couldn't help laughing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Women's Work** Chapter 14

 _Epilog:_ three years later.

"Anna, that's a cute idea, but it just isn't going to happen."

Princess Anna had asked to speak privately with her mother. She had just attended a meeting of the Nobles' Council for the first time. The discussion bored her, as did most of the nobles, but she picked up on one intriguing fact almost immediately. That was Baron Anders' reaction to her sister. She'd caught the young Baron staring unabashedly at the Crown Princess several times during the course of the meeting. At one point, Elsa had glanced at him and smiled; he'd reacted by turning red and staring at the table. Anna saw a possible couple in the making. Of course, like all royalty, Elsa could not choose her own husband; her parents had to make that decision. So Anna had gone to her mother and suggested that a nobleman from Arendelle would make a better Prince-Consort for her sister than a stranger from some other land. Queen Idun had gently but firmly vetoed the idea.

"He's just a Baron, dear. Elsa is going to be a queen; she'll need a prince, or someone of similar rank. That's how these things are done."

"But, Mother, they like each other! If you just pick a prince from somewhere else, they won't even know each other!"

"Dear, I hardly knew your father when I married him, but I learned to love him. That's how it is with royalty everywhere. Marrying for love is something your sister can't do. We'll pick a nice prince to form an alliance with some other kingdom, which will be good for Arendelle."

"But what about what's good for Elsa?"

"She'll learn to love her husband, just like I did. Don't worry about it, dear. I'm sure she'll wind up happy."

Anna was not convinced.

 **o**

"Elsa, I'm amazed that you'd even suggest such a thing!"

Elsa had picked up on a pattern. Every Monday morning around nine o'clock, Anna made sure she had no lessons or other obligations. She would spend about half an hour in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs with the door closed, then return to the family with a spring in her step. Elsa was curious, so she'd freed up her own Monday morning and staked out a place in the guest room next to Anna's chosen spare room. Whatever Anna was doing, it probably involved looking at something out the window. Elsa meant to find out what that was.

She quickly found out. Today was ice delivery day. The good-looking young man with the sled and the reindeer was now the principal ice man for the palace. He stopped in the courtyard, looked up at Anna's window, smiled, and waved. After a moment, he went about his business. When the sled was emptied of its cargo, he looked up at the window and waved again before he gave the reindeer a carrot and rode away. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Elsa had brought the matter to her mother's attention.

"He's just a commoner, dear! I'm sure he's very nice, but princesses don't marry commoners! Surely you know that."

"But, Mother, they like each other!"

"With royalty, liking each other has nothing to do with it. Your sister will marry a nice prince, or maybe a duke, and they'll learn to love each other." Elsa began to object, but Idun held up a warning finger. "I'm happy that you're looking out for your sister and that you want her to be happy, but princesses do _not_ marry commoners. _Ever_. Just put the idea out of your mind."

Elsa was not convinced.

 **o**

The kingdom was celebrating. It was Princess Elsa's coming-of-age day.

It didn't actually mean much, in real-life terms. Elsa was now entitled to represent the kingdom in dealing with other nations, but with Arendelle's king and queen still young and strong, there was no need for her to do so. She was also entitled to a permanent seat in the Nobles' Council, which she often used – she took her future responsibilities very seriously, and wanted to prepare herself in any way she could. (Besides, there was someone there whom she liked to see.)

But the Crown Princess turned 21 this week, and the kingdom had to celebrate. Her actual birthday was a subdued affair, attended only by the family. The coming-of-age ceremony, on the other hand, called for a week of festivities attended by high-ranking guests from all over Europe. Elsa had good control over her powers by now, and wasn't worried about any ice or snow leaking out in the middle of someone's speech. She just didn't want to be the center of all that attention.

There was a _lot_ of attention. It started with a formal ceremony in the palace chapel, conducted by the bishop, in which she made vows to faithfully support Arendelle in all her dealings, and was rewarded with a tiny golden coronet and an assortment of rights and responsibilities that she doubted she'd ever use. There were dinners, and balls, and receptions, and games, and parties, and too many other events for her to keep track of. And there were guests of all kinds – princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, barons and baronesses, and some lesser nobility like knights and _escuderos_ from other nations. A handful of the male nobles were unescorted. King Agdar and Queen Idun kept an especially close eye on those. One of them might make a fine husband for one of their daughters.

The unescorted nobles were hopeful. It was no secret that Arendelle had two princesses of marriageable age and notable beauty. It was slightly less well-known that the Crown Princess had some unusual abilities, which made some of those nobles nervous. They could all see the miniature palace made of ice in the real palace courtyard; it was a spectacular decoration, but it unnerved the ones who knew that Princess Elsa had made it herself, in about five minutes, without any tools. At the various parties and receptions, Anna got a lot more male attention than Elsa did. That was unusual; in conventional circumstances, the Crown Princess would be considered the more worthy prize. But these circumstances were not conventional.

It was soon clear that, in the race to impress the King and Queen and win the hand of a princess, the front-runner was one Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. He was handsome, courtly, pleasant, and eager to please, and he made a good impression on nearly everyone he met. "I think he'd make a good husband for Anna," Agdar decided.

"I was thinking of bringing him and Elsa together, and seeing what happens," Idun replied.

"Nothing is cast in stone yet," the king shrugged. "We'll try both of them, and see what happens." She agreed. Neither of them knew that the princesses were preparing to take matters into their own hands.

Elsa was the first to make a move, but it wasn't on her own behalf. She managed to catch the Prince in a corner during one of the endless morning cotillions. "I've heard a lot about you, Prince Hans," she began shyly.

"Mostly good things, I hope," he smiled.

"Would I be right in guessing that you're here to find a wife?"

That kind of forwardness took him aback. "Well... my father said I should keep my eyes open for all possibilities," he admitted.

"Is my sister one of those possibilities?" she went on.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed her," he said.

"It's only fair to warn you, she's already in love with someone else."

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Have your parents approved of the match?"

"No." It was Elsa's turn to sound disappointed. "They probably won't approve, ever. He's the palace ice man."

"The _ice man?_ " Hans couldn't believe his ears. "Are you serious?"

"He's a very nice ice man," Elsa said hesitantly.

Hans laughed. "Princesses don't marry commoners! That's silly!" He leaned toward Elsa. "Your Excellency, take some good advice. Tell your sister she's never going to marry her ice man, so she should get serious and pick out a nice prince for herself." He flicked an invisible speck of dust off his lapel. "And tell the ice man to mind his place and court a milkmaid, because he is _never_ going to marry a princess! What a foolish concept! Oh, and one other thing, Princess. You might want to keep that special ability of yours under wraps so you don't scare somebody." That was when a baron from Trondheim tapped the Prince on the shoulder; he wanted to iron out a minor diplomatic misunderstanding. Elsa was left fuming.

A few hours later, the Prince finally got Anna alone in the palace gardens. She didn't show much interest in him, but she tried to be polite. He soon realized that he wasn't getting very far with her, so he tried Plan B. "If I wanted to impress your sister, how would I go about it?"

"You'd turn yourself into a baron from Arendelle," Anna answered readily. "He's the only man she's ever noticed. I don't think she's actually in love with him yet, but –"

"A _baron?_ " The prince couldn't believe his ears. "Are both of you determined to marry down? A Crown Princess needs a fine prince from a fine family, not some baron from the back of nowhere! Anna, please give your sister some good advice. Tell her to mind her rank, and set her heart on a _real_ nobleman!" He flicked some imaginary dust off his cuff. "Barons! Ice men! I hope the king and queen of this realm are more sensible in these matters than the princesses are." He decided he'd made his point, and he clearly was getting nowhere with this princess, so he wandered off to start a conversation with the Duke of Weselton. At least that old man understood the principles of statecraft, unlike these girls with their fairy-tale romantic notions. He hoped their parents would straighten them out soon.

Anna was fuming even worse than Elsa was, until she stopped to think. _How did he know about Kristoff?_ she asked herself. _He must have talked to Elsa about me. He probably gave her the same treatment he just gave me._ She glanced up and saw her mother watching her from the balcony. _Mother, if you think that prince would be good for either of us, you're mistaken, and you need to know about it._ She resolutely headed indoors to talk to her mother.

Idun listened politely, then nodded. "Thank you, Anna. I'll take that into consideration." Princess Anna left, unsure if her parents still meant to pair her off with that Southern Prince. Idun sought out her husband for a conversation of her own.

"Interesting," Agdar nodded. "That sounds almost exactly like what Elsa told me an hour ago. If it's true, then this prince isn't the wonderful young man we thought he was. That kind of name-calling and backbiting is not royal behavior at all."

"Do you suppose our daughters have cooked up a scheme between them to discredit this prince?" she asked.

"Neither of them is a liar," he responded with a shake of the head. "They told us very similar stories, so I'm ready to believe them. We can be thankful that our daughters are willing to talk openly to us about these things. We can also be thankful that this prince showed his true colors before we did something irrevocable."

"You mean, showing contempt for others?" Idun wondered.

"Yes, that, and also showing contempt for our daughters," the king replied. "He made a play for both of them, without showing any preference. He obviously doesn't care a bit about either of them, just the thrones and the crowns that they represent. I _will not_ betroth either of my daughters to a man like that!"

"But that sends us right back to Square One!" Idun protested. "This Prince Hans was the only young man who was remotely good enough for either of our daughters! None of the other visiting nobles are even in the same league. How are the princesses of Arendelle going to find decent husbands?"

Agdar looked thoughtful. "We need to discuss this some more," he said slowly, "but if this is what the region's princes are like, I'm starting to wonder if the idea of a baron and an ice man as sons-in-law is really such a bad idea after all."

 **o**

It was the last day of the coming-of-age celebration. The palace had requested an extra delivery of ice to keep the last of the food cold, and Kristoff had readily accepted. He realized that he probably wouldn't be able to see the Princess because she'd be busy at the party, but he might get lucky. Sven was drawn to the sounds of festivities, so they made good time. Sure enough, the upstairs window was empty. He unloaded his sled into the cold-storage room and waited for the palace servant to give him his usual payment.

Today, something was different. The servant who approached him in the courtyard was the King's personal servant, and instead of a handful of coins, he bore a message. "Your presence is requested in the throne room."

Kristoff was stunned. "Me? Now?"

"You, sir. Now, sir. Please follow me."

The ice man shook his head in disbelief. What had he done wrong, that the King would want to see him? Did he know about the way Anna always smiled and waved at him, and the way he smiled and waved back? If he was in trouble with the King, then he was in serious trouble indeed. He mutely followed the servant into the palace. He'd never been there before, except through the back door to fill the cold-storage room. He tried not to stare at the fancy decorations, or the soft carpets, or the other servants who were bustling back and forth with heavily-loaded trays of food. He was expecting bad news, and was trying to brace himself.

The servant opened a large double door and gestured for him to enter. He stepped into the long, brightly-lit throne room. Three men in fancy clothes stood against one wall; they were probably noblemen of some kind. At the far end were four thrones. The two in the middle were occupied by the King and the Queen; the outer two were empty.

The King was holding a drawn sword in his hand. Kristoff gulped and forced himself to walk toward his own doom.

When he was ten feet from the throne, the King stood. Kristoff stopped, took a deep breath, and waited. King Agdar stepped toward him and raised the blade.

"Sir, I can explain..." Kristoff stammered.

"There is no need for explanations," the King replied sternly. "Kneel." Kristoff knelt and closed his eyes tightly.

He felt the sword tap his left shoulder, then his right. Then... nothing happened. At last the King spoke. "Rise, Viscount Kristoff of Arendelle." Kristoff didn't move.

"He means you, young man," the Queen said. She didn't sound stern or harsh at all.

He opened his eyes a crack. The king had stepped back, sheathed his sword, and taken his seat. "Me? I thought you said Viscount."

"I did," the King said in a much more kindly tone. "By royal act, you have just been made a nobleman, in the presence of these noble witnesses." The three men nodded solemnly.

Kristoff struggled to find his voice. "Sir... I mean, Your Highness... can I ask what's going on?"

"It's quite simple," the King smiled. "My younger daughter likes you, but princesses can't marry commoners. So you are no longer a commoner. We've seen you in action over the years; you're honest, hard-working, humble, and kind. That means you're the kind of man who would be good for our daughter. Do you wish to marry Princess Anna?"

Viscount Kristoff felt like he'd been pole-axed, but in a good way. "Uhh... uhh... if I can, then yes. Yes, very much!"

The king nodded in satisfaction. "Then by royal command, you are now engaged to be married. Congratulations." He turned to a side passage. "Anna? Come say 'hello' to your fiancée." Anna burst out of the passage with a shriek and threw herself at Kristoff. He barely managed to stay on his feet, but he needed no encouragement to hug her back. The nobles applauded politely.

After a few seconds, the King spoke again. "Right, that's enough of that. Let's remember our royal dignity, shall we, Anna?"

"How can I act dignified at a moment like this?" she protested.

"Please try," her mother encouraged her. "The nobles are watching." They broke off their hug, joined hands, and turned to face the King.

"Thank you, Father," the Princess said in something close to a dignified tone.

"Yes, thank you, sir. I mean, sire. I mean, Your Highness. I mean..." He broke off in confusion.

"You've got a year to learn some royal protocol before the wedding happens," the Queen told him. "Don't worry about details like those. Just be kind to our daughter."

"I... I think I can do that," he stammered, glancing again at the beautiful girl he'd just been betrothed to. "In fact, I know I can."

"Excellent," the King nodded. "This ceremony is complete. The noble witnesses are dismissed. No, not you, Anders. Approach the throne." The thin young baron stepped nervously away from the other two and did as he was told.

"Your Highness," he stammered, "have I been singled out for a reason? Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all," the Queen reassured him. "But we have to attend to an important aspect of royal protocol. It won't be appropriate to announce that the younger Princess has gotten engaged before the elder." She turned to the side passage. "Elsa?"

Anders stared as the most beautiful girl in the world stepped out of the passage, looking happy and nervous at the same time. The Queen went on, "The Crown Princess will need a Prince-Consort, and it pleases us to provide one from within our own borders. Baron Anders, are you willing to marry Princess Elsa and become the future Prince-Consort of the Queen?"

If anything, Anders was even more dumbfounded than Kristoff had been. "You mean... I could _do_ that?" He glanced at Elsa and somehow found his tongue. "Y-y-yes! I mean, yes, Your Highness. Totally yes, completely yes, absolutely –"

"We get the idea," smiled the king. "Then by royal command, you are also engaged to be married. Congratulations. Elsa, say 'hello' to your fiancée." He stood rooted to the floor for several seconds. Then Anna gave him a push, and he nearly fell over. He glanced again at Elsa, looked into her eyes, and finally got himself moving. She met him halfway, and while they didn't fling themselves at each other like Anna and Kristoff had done, it was obvious by the way they joined hands that they were both extraordinarily pleased with this development in their lives. Not even royal dignity could dampen Elsa's smile.

The King turned to his Queen. "There are going to be some unhappy princes and dukes all over Europe when we make this announcement tonight."

"But we've got two happy princesses right here, and two happy future princes," Idun replied. "Our kingdom's future is in good hands, and our daughters are in good hands. That's all that matters to me."

"Indeed," he nodded. "But tell me, my queen – between the kingdom's well-being and the daughters' happiness, which of the two matters most to you?"

She glanced at Elsa, who was holding hands with Anders and showing no signs of ice or snow, and smiled. "I think you already know the answer to that."

 _The End_

 **o**

 _A/N  
This story was inspired by reading "Embracing the Second" by ptahaegyptus2. The two stories have little or nothing in common, but inspiration hits me in strange ways. It's very likely that other people have already written similar stories, but this is my version._

 _The sister relationship between Anna and Elsa is the heart of "Frozen," but there's a third lady in the story who gets almost no attention, and that's Queen Idun, the princesses' mother. I've learned a thing or two about mothers over the years, and it's inconceivable to me that a loving mother would let her daughter suffer alone if there was anything, anything at all, that she could do about it. This story is about the mother/daughter relationship; it's not as rocky as the mother/daughter relationship in "Brave," but they're not a perfect storybook family, either. I tried to portray King Agdar as well-meaning but misguided. He's not a villain, just a human being thrust into an incomprehensible situation, and he's capable of admitting that he's wrong._

 _I admit, this last chapter isn't much more than fan service. I'd meant to end the story with Chapter 13. But several reviewers wanted to see more of Baron Anders, and one or two wondered about Kristoff, so I created this epilog, and it's probably a better ending than the one I'd intended. (Also, I'm thrilled that people wanted more of my OC!)_

 _If you like this story, you might enjoy my "Together" trilogy – Frozen Together, Thawing Together, and Growing Together. If you've already read those, then thank you for being a faithful reader. Maybe you'll also like some of my "How to Train Your Dragon" fics, of which I've written several dozen._


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